


The Symphony of Cinderella

by ISeeFire



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Angst, Cinderella Style, Drama & Romance, Erebor Never Fail, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins, Genderswap, Happy Ending, Modern, always a girl bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22263070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ISeeFire/pseuds/ISeeFire
Summary: Prompt Request from Agent_Snark: "Bilba is a world renowned concert pianist. During rehearsal one day, she notices the cute stagehand up on the catwalk focusing lights but doesn't pay too much attention until he greets her after the performance that night, flowers in hand and an invitation to dinner at a restaurant a common stagehand shouldn't be able to afford."I definitely took some liberties with the prompt and took it my own way a bit but the core elements are all still there! :D
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Fíli, Female Bilbo/Fili
Comments: 296
Kudos: 597
Collections: AmazingLOTR, Fleur's Beloved fics





	1. Sonata

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Agent_Snark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Snark/gifts).



> This story is already completed and is six chapters long. It'll be updated one chapter a day until it's all up. After that I'll be returning to updating my currently in progress stories. I'll also be starting two new ones - one a short Supernatural one (where Bilba is the hunter this time and Fili the civilian) and one that, I hope, will someday be an original fic I can self-publish. For some reason I have a huge mental block when it comes to trying to write my original story (and I do have one, a trilogy in fact) so I'm going to try and trick my brain! :D
> 
> Anyhoo, thank you all for your patience and kind comments while I was getting through a crazy work period and other life stuff, all of which has now calmed down (yay!) so things will shortly be returning to normal! :D :D

Bilba sat quietly in a wood backed chair as her stepmother berated her. Lobelia had been carrying on for a while and Bilba did _try_ to pay attention. The other woman had the habit of periodically stopping to demand Bilba repeat what she'd said, slights and all. If Bilba failed to remember a barb or cutting remark it would launch her stepmother into an entirely new tirade.

"Ungrateful chit," the older woman was saying, hands on her hips. "After all we've sacrificed for you and this is how you repay us?"

Bilba looked at her hands where they lay in her lap, trembling as she slowly wrung them together. She didn't know why Lobelia still got to her. It wasn't like anything she was saying was new or even unusual.

The door to the small dressing room opened and Lobelia's husband, Lotho, squeezed inside. Lotho was Bilba's cousin and simultaneously Lobelia's first and third husband. The two had been married quite young and divorced shortly after Bilba had been born to her own parents, Bungo and Belladonna. After her mother had died, Bungo had married Lobelia with the hopes of providing Bilba a mother figure. The marriage had lasted only a few short years, until Bungo had unexpectedly taken ill and passed away.

Bilba had been five and barely capable of understanding the concept of death. All she knew was her father was gone, and no amount of waiting at the window and watching the front lane would bring him back.

Two months later, Lobelia had married, or remarried in this case, Lotho.

You might want to keep it down, my dear," Lotho said as he slid the door, barely open a crack as it was, closed. "I could hear you in the hall."

"Good." Lobelia raised her chin defiantly. "Perhaps others realizing what a selfish brat she is will bring a certain someone off her high horse."

Bilba's shoulders bunched around her ears and she clasped her hands together, hard enough to turn her fingers white.

Lotho heaved a sigh that, in Bilba's opinion, was a bit melodramatic, not that she would dare say so. Lotho was incapable of handling so much as a hint of criticism and would fly into a near irrational, shrieking rage over the slightest perceived provocation.

"I apologize, Stepmother," she whispered, keeping her eyes focused on her clasped hands. "I'll try to do better." When her father had been alive Lobelia had insisted Bilba call her mother. Now that he was gone, it was Stepmother.

She supposed she should count herself fortunate that the other woman allowed that much familiarity and didn't demand Bilba call her Lobelia.

Lobelia slapped her hand on the small vanity and Bilba jumped as the crack of the woman's palm on the worn wood seemed to echo in the small room. It was little more than a closet, located near the rear of the theater. It hadn't been in use since the building had been renovated, but Lobelia had insisted placing Bilba in it would teach her much needed humility.

She and Lotho had taken over the larger, newer room originally intended for Bilba as it had "already been set up and would be rude to not use."

"I'll _try_ to do better," Lobelia mocked. "After the money we've spent on you I would expect you to do more than _try_."

Bilba's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at the words. Her father's will had stipulated that his substantial fortune was to be placed in a trust, under the guardianship of Lobelia, until Bilba turned twenty-one and could take control of it herself.

That day had come and gone six months ago.

Instead of signing it over, Lobelia had informed her that, as she'd never been allowed to handle money she'd clearly be incapable of handling such a large sum on her own. Lotho and Lobelia were therefore _graciously_ doing her a favor by continuing to control her assets. When Bilba had complained she'd been called selfish, greedy and ungrateful.

She'd spent years dreaming of the day she'd be free of Lotho and Lobelia's control and their refusal to sign it over had been crushing. In an act of desperation, and what she could now see was foolishness, she'd gone to her grandfather for help. 

She hadn’t known him very well, and had barely seen him a handful of times but she’d thought surely, since he was her grandfather, since he was _family_ , he’d be the one to help. 

Perhaps, if she’d thought it through it would have occurred to her that Lotho and Lobelia were supposed to be family too. 

In any event, her grandfather had listened to her quietly, and then asked her to wait in his office while he went to take care of some business. She had, only for him to return with Lobelia and Lotho in tow. They had sat down and tearfully told her how much they loved her and how hurt they were by her actions. 

In that moment, Bilba had belatedly come to a horrific realization.

Lobelia and Lotho were radically different people in public.

It was one of those things that she'd been peripherally aware of but hadn't really _registered_. Just a vague excitement when company was over because things would be quieter. An understanding that she would see Lotho smile more and she could expect Lobelia to give her a compliment or two. A near hunger to be out in public because it was the only time she could get anything close to a hug. The peace when Lobelia was out making her daily house calls or when Lotho was off with a group of friends surrounding him.

The people they were in public were _liked._

She was not.

Not because of anything she'd done, but because her cousins had barely let her out of the house. At first they reported it was because she was grief-stricken. Later it was that she was supposedly standoffish. Her father, Lobelia regretfully informed neighbors and extended family, had raised her to put great stock in the fact that her grandfather held the hereditary title of Thain. Bilba was haughty, disdainful, arrogant about her musical ability and greatly preferred practicing for hours rather than risk mingling with the riffraff of the Shire.

Bilba hadn't even realized it was happening. Not any of it, until that fateful day when she'd gone to her grandfather for help...and he hadn't believed her. 

And if she'd thought Lobelia and Lotho treated her poorly before that incident, it was nothing compared to how they treated her now.

"They need her for pictures," Lotho was saying to Lobelia, arms crossed. "And then there's autographs after that and interviews."

Bilba's shoulders sagged. The concert had been long, and she was exhausted. "Could I get something to eat first?" she risked asking, "and maybe a bottle of water?"

She hadn't eaten since that morning, and the last time she'd had anything to drink was when she'd gone to the bathroom at intermission and drank from the sink. Her stomach felt like it was gnawing on her spine and her throat was so dry it hurt to swallow.

Lobelia's lip twisted as her eyes raked over Bilba's figure. "I think you could stand to go without a few meals, don't you? It's a wonder the piano bench could hold you."

Bilba flinched in spite of knowing, logically, that the words were false. She was certainly curvy, but her Stepmother rarely let her eat enough to put on any sort of extra weight.

"Get up," Lobelia suddenly hissed through gritted teeth, apparently angry that Bilba hadn't thought to stand on her own. "Let's see if you're capable of doing anything right tonight or if this entire tour will prove to be a complete waste of our time and money."

Bilba said nothing, grateful they were going to finally leave the room. The red silk evening gown Lobelia had demanded she wear did absolutely nothing to protect her against the cold of the room. It was strapless, and backless except for the small sash that pulled the top back and tied it in place. From there it draped below the small of her back before dropping into a skirt as form fitting as the rest of it. A thigh high slit removed what little protection the thin silk might have offered her legs and left her feeling like she'd worn a bathing suit to the snow.

Lobelia stalked to the door and Bilba meekly followed. In the narrow hall she spotted Otho and Priscilla, Lotho and Lobelia's twins from their first marriage, leaning against the wall. Otho had his hands shoved sullenly in his pockets while Priscilla had her head down and was focused on the phone in her hands.

Both had spent every second of the tour shopping, sightseeing and visiting nightclubs and restaurants. 

They hadn't heard her play once.

She saw Otho's eyes travel slowly, and openly, down her figure and her stomach twisted in revulsion. She crossed her arms self-consciously over her chest and sped up to reach Aegnor, who was waiting at the end of the hall. It was his theater she’d played in, to a room that had barely been a quarter full.

So far, it counted as one of her bigger crowds. 

She really had tried to explain to Lobelia and Lotho the reality of touring. Particularly the reality of _her_ touring. She was a good pianist. She knew she was, but she also knew she didn’t have the fame to draw crowds in _Shire_ much less anywhere else.

Even if she _had_ been popular, it didn't mean a tour was a good idea. There were costs for travel, lodging, promotion, merchandise and that was all before the cost of renting the venues. Even if they sold every ticket and every last CD of her music it was unlikely they’d do much more than break even.

Maybe, _maybe_ , if the tour had been small, or only one or two places then they'd have been okay. Lotho and Lobelia had refused to hear anything she'd said, however, and instead had planned a ridiculous tour that would take them literally all-over Middle Earth, starting with Rivendell and ending in Erebor.

They were in Mirkwood now, and it was abundantly clear that not only would they not break even, they'd probably end up in the red. The dollar signs in her Stepmother's eyes had slowly faded, even as they'd added things like photographs and autographs and interviews at small stations to try and drum up more cash.

Their attitudes had gotten worse as time went on and, lately, even their public facades had started to slip. Bilba had a strong suspicion that, with the way her Stepmother and Lotho had been behaving, it'd be a dark day indeed before Aegnor ever booked another group from the Shire. 

"Hello, my dear," Aegnor said, holding his arms out to her. "Ready to meet your adoring fans?"

Bilba forced a smile. So far, very few had been interested enough to purchase either photos or autographs. Those who did tended toward the photograph option and their interest was generally geared more toward hitting on her and less on her music. "As ready as I'll ever be." She uncrossed her arms to reach out and grab his hands in hers. "I wanted to apologize for the mistake I made in that final piece. I'm sure you expect better from the acts you book."

Aegnor's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Mistake? You sounded perfect to me, my dear."

Bilba's smile faltered. "I missed a note in the final piece. It must have sounded horrid."

"It sounded fine to me," Aegnor said with a shake of his head. He patted her hand. "You're too hard on yourself, my dear. You sounded simply lovely."

Lobelia snorted from behind them and Bilba tensed. Aegnor either didn't notice or ignored it. Instead he simply offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Bilba nodded gratefully and took his arm. The shoes Lobelia had given her were little more than a needle thin heel attached to a paper-thin sole with a few strings to tie them on. They were nearly impossible to walk on and Bilba was convinced her luck would run out any minute and she'd end up snapping an ankle.

Otho appeared on her other side and tried to grab her arm, but Bilba dodged him and put it on Aegnor's forearm instead. She had no doubt she'd pay for the snub later but the last thing she wanted was Otho touching her. He'd never been anything more than a bully and the less she had to interact with him the better. Priscilla fell in behind them, still tapping away on her phone. She'd been posting videos documenting her travels and adventures and had amassed a small following. 

Aegnor led her into a small room near the back of the building where a drop cloth and a camera had been set up. Bilba went to stand in the center of the cloth, smiled at Aegnor in gratitude and then spent a few minutes smoothing her dress and making sure her hair was still put together.

It fell in waves down her back, pulled away from her face by a large gold colored clip set with a red stone. Matching earrings and a necklace pulled it all together. All three items were from her mother's jewelry and had been graciously _loaned_ to her by Lobelia for the evening.

Lobelia, Lotho and Priscilla took up position against the wall while Otho stood behind the camera. He had little to no experience but using him was cheaper than hiring someone. Complaints about blurry and out of focus pictures were ignored.

Outside the door on the other side of the room she could hear the low murmur of voices and was gratified that people had apparently paid the exorbitant price. They'd also had to give up their cell phones to ensure they didn't try and snap a picture on the side. The whole thing was ridiculous, like she was some sort of celebrity instead of a reasonably talented piano player.

Lobelia and Lotho had even tried to capitalize on her relationship to her grandfather, the Thain of the Shire to try and drum up attention, which was downright absurd. The position of Thain had long ago become little more than an honorary title. The true ruler of the Shire was the Mayor of Michel Delving who was elected by the populace.

To hear Lobelia and Lotho talk, however, the Thain was on the same level as any ruler of Middle Earth which made her a de facto princess of the Shire. Her Stepmother used the nonsense to justify prices, convince theaters to book her, encourage people to buy photographs and autographs, and persuade the news to interview her.

It had not been enough to fool Middle Earth's upper crust, which was small enough that they all knew one another, and knew full well that she didn't belong. The most humiliating aspect so far, even past the mostly empty theaters and interviews that no one would watch, were Lobelia's attempts to get invitations to high class balls and events.

Not because of any interest in Bilba going, but because she hoped to launch Priscilla into the upper echelons of society and, in doing so, snag a rich and powerful suitor. Lobelia had even gone so far as to try to demand meetings with the rulers of the various kingdoms, as if Bilba was some sort of visiting dignitary.

The Kings of Gondor, Rohan and Mirkwood had ignored Lobelia's requests, if they'd ever even seen them, and she had no doubt the King of Erebor would do the same. Lobelia sent no requests to Lord Elrond or the Lords of Dale and the Iron Hills as she believed them to be beneath her daughter's notice.

She had her heart set on Priscilla marrying royalty and, granted, the girl was pretty with curly wheat blond hair, green eyes and a figure that had young men in the Shire lining up to court her. What neither she, nor Lobelia seemed to understand, however, was that there were plenty of attractive girls in the royal courts, and they brought not just looks but also power and alliances with them.

Aegnor opened the doors and Bilba reluctantly pulled her mind back to the present as a line of concertgoers shuffled in. She put on a smile and stood as straight as possible as the first person in line came to stand next to her. Smile, make eye contact, respond to whatever was said with generic pleasantries, pose, grit her teeth against the ones who decided to take a few liberties, bid them good-bye and repeat.

She went into a sort of trance, mind wandering as she went through the motions with practiced routine. Her eyes traveled idly along the line of waiting guests, about twenty or thirty which, to date, constituted her biggest crowd by far. Mirkwood was known as a kingdom that put great stock in music and the arts and they'd come to see her in spite of not knowing who she was.

She noticed Priscilla eyeing something intently and followed her gaze to see a group near the end of the line, a young woman about her own age in the company of two young men. The woman's hair was amazing, a brilliant flash of scarlet amidst the various shades of blonds and brunettes. It trailed over her shoulders and down her back in thick, controlled waves.

The dark-haired man was gazing up at her in adoration, seeming oblivious to the world around them. Next to him the blond watched them with bemusement. Both men had the facial hair and braids common to the kingdom of Erebor while the woman had the willowy frame and innate grace most often seen in Mirkwood.

Priscilla was eyeing the blond like a shark that had scented blood in the water. Bilba could admit he was attractive but knew that Lobelia would never allow her daughter anywhere near a commoner. Still, that didn't mean Priscilla wouldn't go in search of a fling and Bilba felt a momentary burst of pity for the man. Priscilla was used to getting what she wanted and tended to throw tantrums when denied.

Her eyes stayed on the small group as they slowly inched closer, watching the ease with which they interacted. The blond leaned in and said something to the dark-haired man who chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder before looping an arm around the woman's waist. She leaned into him and reached out to put a hand on the blond's arm as he laughed at whatever she’d said.

A heaviness settled over Bilba as she found herself wondering what it must be like to have relationships like that. To feel at ease, to have love and affection. She'd had it once, but it had been so long ago, and she'd been so young she could barely remember it. Sometime it felt like it must have been another person entirely, in some other life she'd heard about but not lived. 

The bridge of her nose began to burn, and her vision blurred, just as the group of three stepped up. Bilba focused straight ahead, bringing her eyes level to the blond man's breastbone, and forced a shaky smile. She shook someone's hand and then they were lining up, the blond on her right, the brunette on her left and the redhead on his other side.

Both men put their arms around her waist, taking care to be appropriate she noted, and she put her arms around them in turn. For the briefest of seconds, she allowed herself to pretend, just a little, that this wasn't simply a photo op with complete strangers. That _she_ was a part of this group. That she was loved, cared for, protected.

That she had friends.

Family.

For a split second it was real, and then the flash of the camera went off and it was gone just as quickly.

Bilba realized she'd been holding on to the men far too tight. The blond had moved his hand to her shoulder, fingers warm against the frigid cold that felt like it had leeched into her very marrow. As if from somewhere else, Bilba forced herself to let go and step back. Perhaps she said something, or they did. She wasn't sure.

All she remembered was that, in the end...they left.

And she was alone.

As always. 


	2. Adagio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, but the others are longer again. :)

Bilba stared dully at her reflection in the cracked mirror.

She felt _awful_.

It had been a week since her performance at Aegnor's theater. A week filled with interviews at small news stations desperate for stories, and Lobelia's brilliant idea that she should set up a piano outside and give an impromptu concert. Her stepmother had been adamant that not only would it boost ticket sales, but someone in the crowd would undoubtedly film it and create a viral video. 

Bilba was fairly certain her stepmother had an incorrect understanding of how viral videos were created, but it was easier to obey than get screamed at so she’d dutifully sat on the rickety bench in front of a rented piano and played classical music on a random street corner. 

Instead of instant fame, all Bilba had gotten was rained on.

She'd awakened the next day with a scratchy throat that had soon developed into a full-on head cold. None of this had deterred her stepmother in the slightest, which was why Bilba was currently in a run-down room in the back of a theater so small and old she doubted anyone in Mirkwood remembered it existed.

Lobelia and Lotho always demanded she spend the entire day of a performance at the venue, which she usually appreciated because it gave her a much-needed break from them. Lobelia was out shopping with Priscilla while Lotho and Otho had gone off...somewhere.

Bilba sighed. She could barely breathe through her nose, her eyes were so dry it hurt to keep them open, and every time she swallowed it felt like razor blades were shredding her throat. On top of all it felt like her head was in a vise, as her blocked sinuses made their presence known in the form of a raging headache.

She dug her fingers into her temples in the futile hope it might accomplish something. When that did nothing she folded her arms on the counter and dropped her head on them, letting out a groan of pure misery as she did. 

"Are you all right?"

Bilba twitched in surprise at the deep voice behind her but lacked the energy or desire to lift her head enough to see who it was. There were always stagehands running about, preparing for either her performance or the one after that people actually wanted to see. They were usually too busy to speak to her and she’d started thinking of them as almost background noise. Present but on the edges of her perception, simultaneously there but not there. 

She was pretty sure they saw her in the exactly the same way, there but not really. Not a person so much as the “talent.” Just one more act in a long string of ever changing acts.

"Miss?"

Right, guy behind her. She'd half hoped he'd take the hint and leave her to her misery.

"I'm fine," she managed to mumble into her arms. The act of talking irritated her throat enough to make her cough and her shoulders bunched as her lungs tried their very best to expel themselves from her body. Traitorous bastards. When they finally gave up and settled down she let out another groan and sagged deeper into her arms. "Just kill me."

"I'll be right back," the deep voice said. Footsteps retreated out of the small room.

Bilba grumbled something unintelligible and relaxed. She simply wasn't up for any sort of company. She'd be lucky if she were up for the concert. Maybe if she were given the chance to rest for a few min--

Her train of thought was cut off by the arrival of another stagehand, this one to call her up for sound checks. He left and Bilba lifted her head, which felt like it weighed a ton. She kept her eyes shut for a few more minutes, as she always got vertigo when she was sick, her ears getting stopped up so badly it affected her balance. 

When the wave of dizziness passed, she pushed to her feet. A glance in the mirror showed she looked as bad as she felt and she was grateful she hadn’t looked up when either stagehand had appeared. The fewer she traumatized the better. 

She had to resist the urge to groan again as she left the room. Her entire body ached, and she desperately wanted to lie down, but knew that wasn't an option for hours. Instead she consoled herself with the knowledge that, even if she could lie down, she'd just end up with her sinuses even more stopped up and her lungs trying all the harder to escape her body.

Maybe she’d get lucky and a piece of scaffolding would fall and knock her unconscious for an hour or two. 

That would be nice. 

***

Tragically, no scaffolding fell during her sound check and, what felt like ages later, Bilba wandered down the corridor back to her dressing room. 

If anything, she now felt _worse_.

The theater was under construction to repair water damage from the same storm that had made her ill. Most of the work was in the main lobby, leaving it and the stage filled with sawdust that clogged her sinuses even worse and left her eyes feeling like someone had rubbed sandpaper over them. 

Someone had pulled the door to her dressing room closed and she hoped that meant it was relatively clear of more sawdust and she’d be able to relax a bit. She grabbed the knob and shoved it open, desperately hoping that she would be left alone long enough to rest for a few minutes.

She took a step inside and stumbled to a stop at the sight that greeted her on her small vanity. 

A small teacup with steam rising from it, next to a bottle of extra strength aspirin and a box of nasal decongestant. There was also an unopened box of tissues and an extra-large bag of cherry flavored cough drops. Finally, just behind the cup of tea, sat a large bowl of soup, steam rising from it and a spoon placed neatly beside it.

Bilba spotted a note propped against her mirror and picked it up.

_I didn't know what you'd like but I figured you can't go wrong with green tea and chicken soup for a cold. I hope it helps!_

Bilba's vision wavered and she pressed her lips together. The last thing she needed was to cry while being sick. She remembered the door and spun to close it. If Lobelia and Lotho found out someone had done this they'd be angry. They'd insist she must have been complaining and told someone a sob story to manipulate them. They'd say she'd simply done it to make them look bad, as if they didn't do that all on their own.

She sank down into the chair and dragged the bowl and cup toward her. They both smelled heavenly and she was already fantasizing about the feel of the hot liquid on her abused throat.

As she reached for the spoon, her eyes caught on one more item she hadn't originally noticed. A small cell phone tucked just behind the bag of cough drops.

Bilba hesitated, and then reached for it. She didn't recognize the brand, but it lit up as she picked it up, revealing a home screen that looked standard. With a sinking feeling, Bilba pulled up the contacts and saw a single name in the list - "Bringer of Asprin"

A slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips, even as her heart fell further. He was one of _those_ then. The ones who only did something nice because they had convinced themselves they'd get something in return. A date usually, but it was always _something_. He was probably nearby, had seen her go in her room and, any minute, would text the phone with whatever it was he'd decided he'd "earned."

She scowled, tapping one finger idly on the desk as she waited for the phone to buzz. A minute passed, followed by another, and another after that.

Nothing happened.

She chewed on her lower lip self-consciously, eyes darting to the soup and other supplies. Several more minutes passed until, finally, with a grumble, she leaned forward to grab the teacup.

If he tried to get demanding later she’d give him an autograph or picture or something.

The tea felt heavenly, as did the soup. It didn’t make her feel 100% better, but her throat felt less raw and her stomach begrudgingly settled a little.

After she was finished, and had hidden everything as best she could, she retreated to the small couch. The aspirin and nasal decongestant had helped, and though she knew she’d probably soon be going through the entire box of tissue because of them, she was relieved to feel her headache drop to a dull throb in her temples. 

She shoved the cell phone under the cushions, tried to prop herself up so she was sort of half sitting/half lying down, and shut her eyes. 

If she did manage to fall asleep, she imagined she’d wake up to a demanding text or call on the phone, verifying what she already knew. 

Nobody was ever simply kind.

It was a lesson she’d learned over and over since her parents has died.

Hopefully, one day she’d stop feeling so disappointed by it.


	3. Adagio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might change this to seven chapters as I have an idea for a bonus/epilogue scene. It'd still basically end with Chapter 6, and then 7 would be an extra. :D

A week later the phone was still silent.

Bilba frowned at where it lay on the bedspread. It was late, late enough that she should have been asleep hours ago.

Sleep had proven elusive, however, which had led to her current situation, sitting cross legged on her bed, staring at a phone.

She didn’t understand why he hadn’t called. If he’d just wanted to be nice he wouldn’t have left the phone, right? And if he left the phone because he _expected_ something then he’d have called.

Right?

She sighed and flopped back on the thin mattress.

Outside her window, loud footsteps clattered up a set of stairs leading to the second floor. They’d been happening regularly and were a large part of why she’d been unable to get any sleep. Part of her wanted to go investigate what was so popular up there, but the sane part of her understood she was probably better off not knowing.

She thought of her family in a far fancier hotel nearly fifteen minutes away an fought a surge of resentment. It wasn’t anything new, they always stayed in nicer places, leaving her to cheaper hotels in their never-ending quest to “teach her humility.”

She let out a huff and tried to focus on things she was grateful for, such as the ability to breathe through her nose again. The experience was somewhat dampened by the musty smell in the room but she comforted herself with the fact they’d be leaving in Mirkwood in the morning so she’d only have to deal with it for a few more minutes. 

She was more than ready to leave Mirkwood behind her. Perhaps she’d think differently had she been able to get out and see any of it but, as it was, all the memories she had from the place involved run down theaters and raging sinus infections.

More footsteps, and Bilba sat up with a grimace. The constant noise was grating, like nails on a chalkboard or a dripping faucet. That was another memory she’d have from this place, and one she’d be more than happy to leave behind.

She picked up the phone again with a scowl and opened the contacts. She pulled up a text box for “Bringer of Aspirin” and stared at it as if she could force answers through sheer will.

She had no idea what his name was or even what he even looked like. She’d been too miserable to look up. All she knew was he’d had a deep voice and had brought her soup.

And left her a phone that he hadn’t used once.

She hesitated, and hovered her fingers over the keypad. She should at least thank him, right? They were leaving Mirkwood tomorrow, so it wasn’t like she had to deal with him if he did end up being weird...so...

Pain lanced through her lip followed by the metallic taste of blood and she realized she’d been chewing on her lower lip so hard she’d managed to bite through.

Another round of footsteps from outside and she glared at the closed curtains. Then she let out a huff and, before she could talk herself out of it, typed a quick message on the screen.

_Thanks for the soup and everything. I really appreciate it._

She forced herself to hit send and put the phone down. Her stomach fluttered and she scowled at it. She was being ridiculous. It was late, he probably wouldn’t even see it until—

The phone buzzed.

Bilba jumped and her heart jolted. She picked the phone up, gingerly as if it were a live snake, and pulled up the message.

_You’re welcome. I hope it helped._

She waited, but several minutes passed and nothing else came through.

 _It did_ , she wrote back finally. _I feel less like death warmed over now._

She chewed absently on her lower lip and tried to bat down the feeling that _she_ was now the one bothering _him_. She wasn’t sure why she was basically inviting him to start a conversation. Hadn’t she _just_ been worrying about him being a weirdo?

 _Good,_ the phone buzzed a moment later. _Glad to know I helped avert a zombie apocalypse breaking out in Mirkwood._

Bilba laughed in surprise and texted back. _If only the people knew how close they came. Lucky for them, they had you to stand in the breach and hold back calamity._

She reread her words and grimaced. Was that over the top and weird? It was probably over the top and weird.

 _I deserve a medal,_ he replied.

Bilba snorted. _Forget the medal. Ask for something practical, like a pony, or a lifetime supply of hot chocolate._

Instead of a word response this time he simply sent back an emoji of a face crying with laughter, before adding a second text that said, _You are absolutely right. What good is a medal? All it does is sit there and look shiny._

 _I suppose you could use it to fight off burglars,_ Bilba sent, _but it'd be such a waste when you could have just gotten a dog._

 _So true._ There was a pause and then a new text. _If you don't mind my asking, how did you like Mirkwood? Aside from the near death, zombie apocalypse thing of course._

Bilba giggled. She scooted backward until she could shove a pillow between her back and headboard and lean back against it. She doubted he wanted to hear her whine about Mirkwood so she sent back, _I didn't get to see much of it, but it seems nice. We're heading out tomorrow._

_Are you? Where to next?_

_The Iron Hills_ , Bilba wrote. She was not looking forward to the trip. Hours upon hours of being trapped in a car with her stepmother, Lotho, Otho and Priscilla. There wasn't near enough room for them all and their belongings so, by the end, they were all guaranteed to be in less than stellar moods. _Then Lake-town, and Dale and then we finish in Erebor._

 _Really?_ he wrote back. _That's an odd route. Wouldn't it make more sense to hit Erebor, Dale and Lake-town and then finish in the Iron Hills?_

 _It would,_ Bilba agreed. _But my stepmother found out about a festival in Erebor to celebrate the prince's birthday and she's determined to be there for it._

_Does she know it's a month away?_

_She does,_ Bilba answered with a sigh. Somehow her stepmother was intending to make the rest of the tour last a month to ensure they arrived in Erebor at exactly the right time. She didn’t want to know how that was going to work ou _t. She’s got her eyes set on the ball Erebor is throwing to cap the whole thing off._

 _How'd she manage to get an invitation?_ came the reply _. I'd heard it was pretty exclusive._

Bilba tappe d a finger on her knee but then, deciding he’d probably hear about it anyway, went ahead and sent - _The Thain of the Shire is my grandfather and she's been trying to leverage that the entire trip. It’s never workd, but my guess is she won't let that stop her from trying again._

 _The Thain?_ he asked. _Doesn't that make you a princess?_

Bilba rolled her eyes. _NO. It's a hereditary title. It meant something once, but now it's pretty much just honorary. He’s really just a figurehead who comes out for parades and such.  
_

He was more or less the Shire’s diplomat/ambassador, in fact, a job that kept him incredibly busy but it certainly wasn’t anything that gave him the power or authority Lobelia liked to pretend he had. _  
_

_Still_ , came the reply. _That does technically make you royalty, honorary or not._

 _I suppose if you want to get technical_ , Bilba sent back grudgingly. Her stepmother insisted on it so often that the mere mention of the title gave her a nervous twitch. _It never mattered until this tour when my stepmother started using it to try and get meetings with royal families and invites to balls. She's convinced she can marry my stepsister off to royalty._

 _She'd be disappointed in the Erebor ball then,_ came the response. _That particular prince is spoken for._

 _Who knows?_ Bilba wrote back _. Maybe there will be a lord o_ _r some such that will take an interest.  
_

Her stepsister was pretty and if she got married off perhaps Lobelia would be taken up with that and leave Bilba alone more. It was a pleasant thought. _  
_

_What about you?_ he asked. _Looking to land a prince yourself?_

Bilba shrugged, even though she knew he couldn't see. _Depends on what you're defining as a prince._

 _Good point_ , he answered. _What do you define as a prince?_

 _Someone kind,_ Bilba replied without hesitation. _Strong, protective. Someone who can make me laugh, maybe. Someone with a big family._

Her eyebrows drew together in a frown as she studied the text she'd just sent. It was far more than she'd meant to reveal, especially to a stranger.

Thing was, though, he didn't _feel_ like a stranger. She had to remind herself that she didn't know his name, or what he looked like. She had to remind herself that she'd heard his voice exactly once and this was the first conversation they'd ever had.

She had to remind herself, because it certainly didn't feel like that. It _felt_ like she was talking to someone she'd known a very long time. It was comfortable, easy. Like she'd simply picked up the phone at the end of the day to talk to a friend.

She’d always wondered what that would feel like.

 _Why a big family?_ he asked a few minutes later.

 _Just seems like it'd be nice_ , Bilba sent back, unwilling to get any deeper into the mess that was her family. _I always thought having a sibling would be fun._

It wasn't until after she'd hit send that she remembered she'd already mentioned her stepsister to him. Fantastic, he'd either think she was crazy now or a jerk who refused to acknowledge her stepsister as a true sibling.

She was just so used to Priscilla introducing her as a “distant relation,” that she forgot people who didn’t know them might look at her strangely if she announced she had no siblings. She didn’t, but it wasn’t what _she_ had ever wanted.

 _You say that,_ his response came back, _but just wait until your younger brother "borrows" your favorite shirt and returns it with both sleeves ripped off, insisting it was a "stylistic choice."_

Bilba laughed, shoulders that had been bunched around her ears relaxing. _Sounds wonderful_ , she couldn't help sending back. _Though I'd have probably sat him down and made him sew them back on again._

 _You're close to what happened_ , came the reply. _Fair enough, though. I suppose it's easy sometimes to miss what you have right in front of you._

Feeling suddenly impulsive, Bilba snapped on the bedside lamp and used the faint light to take a picture of her creepy bathroom. She sent it to him along with _Speaking of what's right in front of you, check out what I have to put up with._

There was silence, for long enough that the small smile she had started to waver. Had she gone too far? Maybe he didn't appreciate her changing the direction of the conversation or --

The phone rang.

Bilba jumped so hard she smacked her head against the headboard behind her. She stared at the phone in her hand for a few seconds, and then fumbled to answer it. "Hello?"

"Why do you have a portal to the underworld in your hotel room?" a deep voice demanded.

Bilba giggled and pulled her feet in closer, wrapping her free arm around her knees. "Right? I should have turned the bathroom light on before it got dark."

"I'm not sure it would have helped," he said dryly. "I didn't realize Mirkwood catered to the underworld."

"It would explain the giant spiders," Bilba said sagely. "I saw one the other day and I'm pretty sure it was as big as a small dog."

"Must have been a small one then," he said dryly. "Most of the ones I've seen could be saddled and ridden. I think it's even been suggested to Thranduil that he consider training and selling them as an extra source of income."

Bilba suppressed a shudder. "Well, then I'm doubly glad we're leaving tomorrow. The less chance of seeing a pony sized spider the better."

He chuckled and the sound sent a strange thrill through her. Don't be ridiculous, she scolded herself. She barely knew him. He could still end up being a serial killer.

Footsteps clattered up the stairs yet again and she sighed. "I think the main portal must be on the second floor. People have been coming and going up it all night."

"What motel are you in?" he asked.

"Mirkwood Inn and Suites near the river," she replied without thinking and then instantly kicked herself for her stupidity. She'd _just_ warned herself about the fact she didn't know him and then immediately turned around and told him where she was.

Maybe her stepmother was onto something about her being irresponsible after all.

He let out a hiss. "That's not in the best part of town. I'm surprised your stepmother chose to stay there."

Her stepmother hadn't chosen to stay there, Bilba thought with annoyance. Her stepmother had chosen to stay at a much nicer hotel on the far side of town where there were no portals to the underworld in the bathroom, and where there were no stairways right outside her window.

Something heavy thudded against her door suddenly and Bilba gasped, tensing as the door rattled in its frame. A slurred voice mumbled something outside her door. 

"Are you all right?" her new friend(?) demanded over the phone.

Bilba nodded shakily and then, remembering he couldn't see her, said, "Yeah, I think someone is drunk and thinks this is their room."

"Who are you sharing the room with?"

"No one," Bilba whispered, “it’s just me.”

It had been just her for a very long time.

She pursed her lips as tears threatened. She was not going to start crying on the phone to a total stranger. “I better go, if he hears me talking it’ll just encourage him. Besides, you probably have to get up pretty early for the theater."

"The theater?" he asked.

"Yeah." Bilba pushed the blankets back, trying to ignore the musty smell coming off them, and slid underneath. She curled up on her side with her back to the door and lowered her voice to a whisper. "How early do stagehands have to be there? I'm always there pretty much as soon as the doors open, but I've never beaten you guys."

"Pretty early I'd imagine," he said mildly. "I’ve enjoyed talking to you."

"Me too," Bilba replied with a yawn. She felt strangely relaxed despite all the commotion around her room and thought she might end up getting some sleep after all. 

"Thank you again for the soup --" she paused. She'd been about to say his name, only to remember, with some surprise, that she still didn't know it. "I just realized I never asked your name."

"Fili," he said. "At your service."

In her fatigue, Bilba decided he sounded almost flirty and heat flooded her face in response. Don't be ridiculous, she scolded herself. She was not flirting with someone she'd never even officially met. “It’s nice to meet you, Fili,” she said softly. “So to speak.”

"So to speak,” he agreed. “Maybe I'll talk to you later?" he asked, sounding hopeful. Or at least Bilba convinced herself he did. She didn’t think anyone had ever sounded hopeful about speaking to _her_ , but it was a nice thought to have.

"I'd like that," Bilba admitted. "Don't feel bad if I don't respond right away, okay? If my stepmother finds out I'm talking to you she'll freak."

"Overprotective?" Fili asked. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Sure," Bilba whispered. A hollow feeling settled into her gut at the thought of actually having a parent who cared enough to worry that she was speaking to a virtual stranger. "I'll talk to you later, Fili."

She hung up and settled on her side. The bedside lamp was still on, but she had no interest in turning it off.

A second thud sounded against her door, and she tensed and mentally tried to will the drunk to go away. She pulled the blanket up and focused on the far wall, idly counting the number of steps it took different people outside to get up the stairs.

Her body began to relax again, and she started imagining what it would be like in a family with Fili and his unnamed brother. The thought was a pleasant one, and she yawned and settled deeper into the mattress.

It vaguely occurred to her that the stairs and the hall outside her door had fallen quiet. In the pleasant silence, she sighed and drifted off to sleep.

Her final thought before sleep claimed her was that, for the first time in a long time, she was actually looking forward to tomorrow.


	4. Minuet

Bilba did speak to Fili the next day.

She also spoke to him the day after that, and the one after that as well. 

Suddenly she couldn't wait to be left alone in the venues while Lobelia and Priscilla went shopping or Lotho and Otho went off to explore the various nightclubs and entertainment spots.

Suddenly the thought of being dumped in a run-down motel while her family went somewhere better was something she actively looked forward to.

She was careful to always have the phone on silent, or even turned off when she wasn't using it, and kept both it and the charger carefully hidden. If possible she kept both items with her, hiding them in her clothes or dressing room.

She and Fili soon figured out the best times to text or call, the resulting conversations quickly turning into a routine that Bilba eagerly looked forward to. During the day, it wasn't unusual for her to glance at her phone and find a funny text he'd sent her, and she soon got into the habit of doing the same.

Talking to him made her life seem brighter in a way it hadn’t been in a very long time, if ever.

***

"I'm so glad to be done," she told him nearly three weeks later as she threw herself on her bed at the end of a long day. "The Iron Hills, not fans of classical music."

Fili chuckled over the phone. He sounded tired, and she made a note to not keep him long. Being a stagehand apparently involved a lot of meetings and he'd already mentioned having been in one that had lasted most of the day. "Not great numbers then?"

"They weren’t _terrible_ ," Bilba said. The numbers had been comparable to a few of the other places she'd been to, but that wasn't good enough for _some_ people. "My stepmother wasn't happy. She spent a lot of money trying to get the attention of the nobility and Lord What's-His-Name, but it was all for naught."

She tried to keep the satisfaction out of her voice as she spoke, but it was hard. She'd been talking to Fili enough that she'd slowly started to open up to him, a little at least. She hadn't told him _everything._ She didn't want him to think she was a complainer for one thing.

For another, the image of her grandfather was forever flashing across her mind.

Specifically, the memory of sitting across from him, explaining what was going on, and having him not believe her. 

He hadn't believed her, and that had been her _grandfather_. Fili was just a friend, little more than a high-tech pen pal for all they'd interacted in person. How could she ever expect him to believe her when her own family hadn't?

"Dain?" Fili asked in surprise. "She wanted Dain there? I don't think he's much of a fan of classical music."

Bilba laughed. "I figured that. I don't think she cared about him so much as she was hoping he'd see Priscilla and want to introduce her to his son."

Fili snorted. "I don't think she'd be his type. Besides, I thought she was interested in Erebor's prince?"

"I don't think she cares as long as his title is Your Highness," Bilba said dryly. She sat up on the bed suddenly, tucking her legs under her and bouncing a little in excitement. "We're leaving tomorrow though."

"Lake-town is next?" Fili asked.

Bilba nodded at the empty room. This hotel, while small, was far nicer than most of the rundown ones she'd stayed in. The room was clean and pleasant, and the staff had been extremely nice to her. "We won't be staying there long."

"Let me guess, no royalty?"

"No royalty," Bilba agreed with a laugh. "And my stepmother gets seasick and the entire town is literally _on_ a lake."

"I've never been so happy for that fact," Fili said sincerely. "So Dale in plenty of time for the festival?"

"Yeah," Bilba said. Her face had gone hot at his words and a, by now, familiar tingle ran through her gut. She'd been telling herself to not let her heart get involved, repeatedly. She knew better. He was simply being kind. She was simply lonely. There was nothing there, _couldn't_ be anything there.

They'd been talking every day, for hours at a time, but that didn't change the fact that they'd only known one another three weeks. Or that she _still_ didn't know what he looked like. She could have asked for a picture but was worried he'd think her shallow, or that he'd wonder how it was she'd never looked at him back when he'd first helped her. All she knew for sure was that he was about her age, and had a voice that, of late, had started sending shivers down her spine and causing her toes to curl in her shoes.

She really was an idiot, and she knew it...her _brain_ knew it anyway.

Her heart, however, was stubbornly refusing to listen to anything she had to say to it.

Yavanna, she could just see herself slipping up and watching the tone turn awkward, could almost hear him trying to gently explain that he was just being kind and certainly wasn't interested in her in _that_ way.

"Are you going to the festival?" he asked, breaking into her thoughts. "Most of it happens in Dale, and then the ball will happen in Erebor on the last day."

"I wish," Bilba said. A shadow moved past her window and, through the lace curtains, she spotted one of the two new assistants her stepmother had hired. It wasn't like her to willingly spend money they didn't _technically_ need to spend, but she'd gotten tired of how long it took Otho and Lotho to load the cars. Dwalin and Nori had been passing by and offered to help. After, they'd expressed interest in visiting the Iron Hills and, as they seemed fine with nearly non-existent pay and poor lodgings, Lobelia had hired them.

Bilba had been terrified of Dwalin at first. He was enormous, partly bald and covered with tattoos. He also wore knuckledusters as a _fashion_ accessory. He had quickly proven, however, to be a gentle giant, with her at least, and had already chased off several fans who'd tried to harass her after shows.

Nori didn't have the size or tattoos, or knuckledusters, but he possessed no fear and almost seemed to want people to get in his face so he could laugh at them and terrify him with all the cares he did not give.

Ever since they'd been hired, Bilba's stress levels had fallen dramatically. They were at the venues all day with her and, best of all, stayed in the same hotels. Both had given her their cells numbers and just knowing they were there if she needed them was an intense relief.

"You're not going?" Fili asked in surprise. "I thought you were excited about it."

"I am," Bilba said, only half paying attention as she idly wondered where Dwalin was going this late. "Unfortunately, I'm tragically lacking in funds."

"Really?" Fili asked. "How is that possible?"

Bilba pulled her eyes away from the window and stared at the phone as if it had sprouted fangs and bit her. She hadn't meant to say that. Why had she said that?

"It's not a big deal," she said quickly, trying to backtrack. "I started preforming when I was still a minor and my checks would go to my stepmother's account. I've just never bothered to change it is all."

"Which would be fine," Fili said slowly, "if you weren't talking as if she wouldn't give you access when you wanted it. It's _your_ money."

"I know that," Bilba said defensively. Her face was growing hot again, but for an entirely different reason. "They've done a lot for me and it costs a lot to raise a kid and --"

"And that's their _job_ ," Fili cut in, his voice hard. "And, besides, didn't you say something about your father leaving money? Why aren't they using that?"

A low tremor started running over her limbs, and Bilba felt cold.

He didn't believe her.

She'd said too much and now he didn't believe her and he'd either go tell her stepmother or he'd call her a liar and _leave_.

Her vision went blurry and she pursed her lips as the bridge of her nose began to burn.

"It must not have been as much as I thought," she said softly, her voice wavering. "My dad wasn't expecting it to be used to support everyone, just me. They must have--"

"Wait," Fili cut in. "Are you saying that money was left for _you_? Why are they controlling it?"

Bilba's eyes slid closed. Why was she making it _worse_ with every word she said? "I don't want to talk about it."

"Bilba--" Fili started.

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" Bilba sucked her lower lip in and bit down until pain splintered through it. An errant tear escaped, and she swiped at it angrily, turning her eyes to the ceiling as if it would somehow retract them.

On the other end of the phone line, there was only silence.

Bilba inhaled sharply and tightened her grip on the phone. Yavanna, she was so stupid. No wonder her stepmother wouldn't let her control her money. Maybe she was right. Maybe Bilba really was just that useless. "Are you very mad at me?" she asked, timidly.

"No," Fili said, sounding agitated. "Aule, of course not."

Bilba let out a slow breath, and physically sagged. "Are we still friends?" Her voice sounded very small even to her own ears and she clenched her free hand, digging her nails into the flesh of her palm.

" _Yes_ ," Fili said. "Of course we are. Friends disagree sometimes, it doesn't mean they stop being friends."

"Oh." Bilba relaxed minutely. "Okay."

Fili started to say something, stopped, and then started again. "Please tell me I'm not your first friend."

"I don't get out much" Bilba said, forcing her tone to stay even. "I spent most of my time practicing."

"All right." His voice changed, as if he'd been lounging and changed position. He sounded angry, his voice harder than she'd ever heard it, but he wasn't yelling at her, so maybe that was okay? "How about this then? When you get to Dale, let me take you out to eat and to the festival. My treat."

Bilba shifted, and folding her legs under her. She focused on her thighs and idly picked at the hem of the nightshirt she'd changed into after getting back. "I don't know. Lobelia usually likes me to stay at the venue."

"You're twenty-one," Fili said gently. "You know she can't tell you what to do, right?"

That was true, Bilba mentally agreed, but her stepmother could certainly make her suffer for it after.

"I don't have any money," she repeated. "I don't want to take advantage."

"It's not taking advantage when I'm offering." Bilba heard the faint sound of a voice behind Fili and he covered the phone speaker and dropped his voice as he responded.

As she waited for him to return, Bilba absently studied the hem of her nightshirt. She'd had it for years, a castoff from Priscilla. It was worn, too tight across the chest, and been repeatedly mended in several areas. Most of her clothing was like that, except for the few nicer items she wore to performances or interviews.

An unexpected surge of resentment flashed through her. Her shows would never make her rich, but they certainly provided her enough money to buy a decent nightshirt, or go to a festival if she wanted. And that wasn't even taking into account her parent's money which, by all rights, should be hers.

But, no, _she_ had to wear worn out hand-me-downs and spend her time stuck in run down venues while her stepmother and family ran about spending _her_ money. She basically supported them while they, in turn, treated her like garbage and assassinated her character.

"Bilba?" Fili had come back on. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah." Bilba's eyes went to the window again. It was dark now, but the day had been nice. Sunny and warm, for that side of the Misty Mountains anyway. If it had been up to her, she'd have sat at a sidewalk cafe with a cup of hot chocolate and simply enjoyed people watching.

Instead, she'd been stuck inside another dusty building, while her stepfamily enjoyed the day without her.

"I should have gone on a walk," she whispered.

"What?" Fili asked.

Bilba shook her head and focused on the call. "Sorry. I was saying I should have taken a walk today. The weather was nice."

"It'll probably still be nice when you get to Dale," Fili said hopefully. "I could take you on a tour."

Bilba pictured it, walking alongside her _friend_ through the streets of Dale, enjoying the festival and the nice weather like any other normal person.

She wanted that. Possibly more than anything she'd ever wanted in her life aside from her parents.

"I'd like that," she whispered. "A lot." She frowned. "Maybe, when I find out the venue we'll be in, you can meet me there? I'm usually stuck in those things all day. My stepmother won't even know I'm gone."

"Sounds good," Fili said, voice neutral. 

It shouldn't matter if her stepmother knew she was going out, Bilba thought. In a perfect world, it wouldn’t. She _was_ twenty-one. She had the right to make her own decisions, her own choices.

Except, her mind reminded her, for the fact that she literally had nothing. No money, no family or friends that would be willing to help her, and few skills outside of playing the piano. She wasn't even in a familiar place at the moment, but was instead on almost the opposite side of the world. 

If she pushed her stepmother too much, made her angry enough, it was quite likely the woman would throw her out. Right onto the street with little more than the clothes on her back and no one and nothing to help her.

Bilba shuddered and wrapped her free arm around her torso. "Definitely meet at the venue," she said. "I'll let you know, okay?"

"All right." It sounded like he started to say something, caught himself, and then said, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Bilba."

Bilba nodded. "Okay."

He ended the call and she let out a breath, staring at the phone. She wasn't sure if she felt elated at the prospect of sneaking out for the festival or terrified.

Probably both.

In any event, one thing she _was_ sure of, was that she couldn't wait to meet Fili in person.

Okay, so maybe that prospect was a little terrifying too.


	5. Minuet

Bilba hesitantly approached the small window in the front of Dale's main theater. Outside, she saw the same wide stairs she'd seen the last eight times she’d checked, leading down to the same narrow street. The day was bright and sunny, and a stiff breeze had the ribbons and kites dancig as if they too were celebrating.

"Relax," she ordered herself firmly, stepping away. "He's not even supposed to be here yet."

Her stomach fluttered and she spun on her feet, yanking nervously on the bottom of her short jacket. She'd worn the outfit she used for interviews. It and her performance dress were the only two nice pieces she had and, since she didn't fancy traipsing around Dale in an evening gown, red floral sundress and denim jacket it was.

She wasn't insane so she'd elected for her sneakers over the wedges she normally wore with the outfit and had used a barrette to pull her hair to the side so that it swept over her shoulder. She didn't have any jewelry unless Lobelia loaned it to her, and she'd never been allowed makeup, but she hoped she still looked nice.

She should simply be happy no one in her family had noticed how dressed up she was. For once, their general lack of care and concern about her had worked in her favor.

She risked another look, chewing nervously on her lower lip. As nervous as she was, she was also _really_ excited. Lobelia's only concern was for the ball, so they'd arrived a day before it was scheduled, which meant the festival had already been carrying on for nearly a full week and was, by now, in full swing.

Bilba had been enthralled from the moment they'd entered the city. The architecture was closest to what she'd seen in Gondor, but more spread out and on a single level instead of multiple. The streets were narrow and clean, and everything was bright and cheerful.

And then, of course, there was the festival. All the buildings were decorated in one way or another, booths selling all manner of food and trinkets and music seemed to come from everywhere.

What caught her eye the most, however, were the _rides_. They were clustered on the plain that stood between Dale and Erebor and, while she couldn’t clearly see them from within the city, what she could see looked amazing. Giant spinning wheels and tracks on which cars ran through dizzying loops and curves. As she'd been dropped off at her hotel, she'd been able to hear the distant shrieks of excited people as they spun and twisted and dropped on the rides.

"Tsk," Priscilla had sneered as she'd slammed the car door shut after Bilba had gotten out. "All these idiots are giving me a headache."

"Don't concern yourself, my dear," Lobelia had responded, twisting in her seat to face her daughter. "All you have to worry about is the ball."

"First thing I'll do as princess is cancel this entire stupid thing," Priscilla had said with a huff as she'd flounced against the seat. "What a waste of money."

They had driven off, chattering about the ball, and Bilba had wisely held her peace and not commented on the fact that they still didn't have an invitation.

Or the fact that, as Fili had pointed out, the prince of Erebor was already spoken for.

They'd arrived too late in the day to do much, so she'd called Fili to tell him to meet her the next morning and now.... now she was waiting for him to arrive.

She clapped her hands, bounced on her toes and checked again for the...she'd lost count of how many times she’d check actually.

"Waiting for someone?"

Bilba yelped in surprise and spun to find Dwalin and Nori standing behind her. She nodded in excitement and clasped her hands together. "I'm going to the festival with a friend."

Dwalin looked unimpressed, which she was finding was his normal expression, while Nori looked amused. "I wasn't aware you knew anyone in Dale."

Bilba hunched a little in guilt and bounced slowly on her toes. "He's kind of someone I met in Mirkwood." Sort of. "We've been talking on the phone and now he's going to take me to the festival." She put her hands together and pleaded, "You won't tell my stepmother, will you?"

Dwalin shrugged. "Ain't none of her business, now is it?"

Bilba grinned and relaxed a little, only to immediately tense again as Nori, near the window, said, "This him, I'm guessing?"

Clutching her hands together until the knuckles were white, Bilba nervously moved up to stand next to Nori and look out. Her eyes went wide and her stomach clenched. "Oh, no," she breathed. "Oh, this is bad. This is so, very bad."

Nori half-turned toward her, an unreadable expression on his face. "How so?"

Bilba gave him an incredulous look and pointed out the window. A young man wearing black slacks and a plum colored dress shirt was coming up the steps. He had golden blond hair, worn to his shoulders in the common style of Erebor with four braids framing his face. Two more braids capped with beads, hung off the ends of a mustache and framed a neat, close cropped beard. He had a trim figure and moved with the ease and grace of someone comfortable in their own skin.

Somewhat to Bilba’s surprise, he looked vaguely familiar, but she imagined that must be from similar looking men she’d seen gracing the covers of various magazines, showcasing clothes or whatnot, because they were _professional freaking models._

"He's _attractive_ ," Bilba said, voice almost panicked. "Really, _really_ , attractive!" He was also nearly at the doors to the venue. Bilba shook her head. "Nope, I changed my mind." There was just no way. She'd be a babbling idiot, if she managed to find her voice at all. "I'm just going to run out the back door. If you'll excuse me."

She turned and made it a whole two steps before Nori snagged her around the waist and tugged her back around. He planted his hands on her shoulders and stood behind her, just as the door opened and Fili walked in.

Maybe it _wasn't_ Fili, Bilba thought hopefully, even as she noticed the flowers he was carrying. Maybe it was just some random guy and Fili would show up later and be a nice, average look guy who wouldn't make her brain misfire every time she looked at him and --

He smiled at her. "Hey, Bilba."

Oh, dear.

Nori nudged her, and Bilba stumbled forward. "Hi," she managed to get out in a voice so low she almost couldn't hear it herself. She looked down, realized she was staring at his belt which was _s_ o very inappropriate, and refocused her gaze on his shoes.

He had very nice shoes.

She put an arm out stiffly to shake his hand, just as he held his arms out to hug her. Immediately she switched to hold her arms out, even as he quickly switched to trying to shake her hand.

Behind her, Dwalin made a disgusted noise, while Nori snorted. She and Fili finally managed to figure out a very awkward, sort of hug...like...thing before he stepped back with a shy grin and held out the flowers. "Here, these are for you."

Bilba's face went hot. She took them carefully, and ducked her head. "Thank you. I'll just--" she half turned and gestured down the hall. "I'll just take them to my dressing room. I'll be right back."

She hurried down the hall and put the flowers into the glass of water Nori had brought her earlier. She looked in the mirror to make sure everything was still more or less in place, took a deep breath and hurried back out again.

Fili was standing with Dwalin and Nori when she got back, all three speaking in low voices and she hoped desperately the two men weren't threatening him or scaring him off.

Fili smiled at her as she approached and held an arm out. "You ready to go?"

Bilba nodded and nervously wrapped her arm around the proffered arm. 

"You two kids have fun now," Nori said, sounding like _he_ was having all together too much fun.

Fili sent him a deadpan look, but lightly tugged her toward the door and away from the two men. As they left, Bilba spotted an expensive looking car parked at the curb. "Is that yours?"

"My uncle's," Fili said. "Dale isn't so terribly large. I thought we could walk to a place for breakfast and then combine the tour with seeing the festival?"

Bilba nodded but couldn't help looking over her shoulder toward the plain beyond the city. "Are the rides very fun?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Fili followed her gaze and smiled. "What do you say we find out later?"

Bilba's eyes lit up and she nodded. "Okay." They reached the street and Bilba felt a swell of just...peace, as they wandered along. There were people going past them, music, vendors hawking items from booths and it was all just so...normal. Perfectly normal and she was a _part_ of it for the first time instead of being on the outside looking in.

They passed a shop filled with a window full of fancy dresses and her good mood wavered slightly. She looked down and tightened her grip on Fili's arm.

"Are you all right?" he asked, putting a hand over hers where it lay on his bicep.

"I'm fine." She shot a nervous look at the window. "I'm just a little worried my stepfamily might see me out here."

His eyes narrowed. "Do you know where they are?"

"I'm not sure where Lotho or Otho are," she confessed. "My stepsister said she had a headache and she and my stepmother planned to stay in, but you never know. It'd be just like them to decide to go shopping."

"I don't think they'll be a problem," Fili said with a confident grin. "You've been looking forward to this festival for awhile now. Don't let them ruin it for you."

Bilba smiled. She hadn't been looking forward to _just_ the festival. "You're right," she said quietly. She'd already missed out on so much thanks to them, and who could say how much more she stood to miss out on as long as they controlled her finances.

Fili led them down a side street toward a very large, very upscale looking restaurant. As they headed inside Bilba had to bite her lip to keep from asking the very insulting question of whether he could afford the clearly expensive looking place. She really hoped he wasn't overspending to ensure she had a good time.

Somewhat to her surprise, a server appeared almost the second they walked in and proceeded to guide them to a small, private room at the back of the restaurant. They were both handed menus and then the waiter left to go and get their drinks.

"Wow," Bilba said honesty, "did you call ahead for a reservation? I've never seen someone get service so fast."

"You're clearly not going to the right restaurants," Fili said with a grin. He snapped his napkin out with practiced ease and set it on his lap before studying his menu.

Bilba did the same, only to nearly have a heart attack at the prices. She wasn't sure she could afford to even be sitting there, much less actually get something to eat.

When the waiter came back to take their orders she ended up ordering an appetizer and a small salad.

"Are you sure that's all you want?" Fili asked.

Bilba nodded. "I want to make sure and leave room for the festival food."

That was true enough. There was no reason to tell him she was worried about how much of his salary he was spending on this and didn't want to bankrupt him.

They engaged in small talk until their food arrived, broken up occasionally when Bilba got distracted staring out the tinted bay window they were sitting near to watch the festival goers outside. The more they spoke the more Bilba felt herself relax. It was different, face to face like this, and Fili was certainly more attractive than she'd expected, but he was still Fili.

He was still the same young man she'd spent hours talking to over the past several weeks, still had the same sense of humor, the same voice. The only difference was now she could see the sparkle in his eye when he spoke, could watch his hands wave about as he made a point, and could witness the quick grins that flashed across his face.

The only downside was she'd sincerely hoped meeting him face to face would help with the puppy crush she'd developed but, if anything, she could already tell it was only going to get worse.

Fili in person, at least so far, was even _better_ than he'd been on the phone and meeting him face to face was far beyond anything she'd tried to imagine.

Near the end of the meal his eyebrows drew together, and he tapped his fork idly on the edge of the table. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Bilba shook her head. "No, go right ahead."

"All right." He opened his mouth, paused and then asked, "you and your stepmother, is that the way your parents wanted it? How they intended if it something happened to you?"

Bilba flinched. "My parents had a will that stipulated my grandfather would have guardianship if anything happened to them,” she said, finally. This wasn’t what she’d wanted to talk about at all, but it was her own fault for giving permission before knowing the question. "It was written while my mother was still alive, however, and never changed after. Once my father passed away, my stepmother argued she should be allowed to have control." She frowned and focused on her empty plate. "My grandfather was very busy and had little desire to raise another child. He was more than happy to sign everything over to my stepmother and trust her to handle it."

"Why did he trust her?" Fili asked. "Besides the fact she was your stepmother, I mean. He just signed _everything_ over to her? He never checked in on you?"

Bilba tensed. They were treading far too close to dangerous ground. The only way to explain would be for him to understand that her stepmother and Lotho were two different people, one in public and another in private.

She didn’t know how to explain to him without saying that, and couldn’t say it without risking him not believiing her the way her grandfather had.

To her utter horror, her vision wavered and the bridge of her nose began to burn. She curled her fingers, bunching the tablecloth under them, and clenched her jaw.

A second later she felt one of Fili’s hands gently cover hers. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Bilba force a shaky smile and shook her head. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Fili stood, took a few steps, and closed the door to the small room. He came back over and lightly grabbed her hand again. “Come here.”

Bilba hesitated, but then obediently got up.

He hugged her.

Bilba tensed in surprise but then, tentatively, wrapped her arms around him. The second she did, something inside her seemed to snap, and suddenly she was holding him in a near death grip.

She then proceeded to burst into tears.

He put a hand lightly on the back of her head and she buried her face in his neck. Her hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt and she almost sagged against him, his arms tightening around her waist in response to help keep her upright.

It took awhile to get it out. Years worth of being told she was worthless, of trying and failing to get her family’s love and attention and not understanding why. Resentment and anger mixed with despair and the overwhelming feeling of chains locking her away in a small box, forced to watch as the world passed her by.

It was only after she finally began to settle down that the humiliation began to settle in. She met him in person for the first time and proceeded to break down on him?

She’d be lucky if he ever wanted to talk to her again, let alone see her.

She’d turned her head at some point to stare aimlessly at the wall, and he’d moved to rest his chin on the crown of her head. Pressed this close, she could feel the outline of his body under his shirt. She’d been able to feel it the whole time but this was the first she’d become _aware_ of it and her face promptly caught fire.

This whole thing just kept getting better, didn’t it? Not only had she cried all over him but now she was effectively taking advantage of his kindness to creep on him.

She took a shaky breath and carefully disentangled herself, eyes locked on the floor. “Sorry,” she said again. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“Not crazy,” Fili said gently. “Just hurt.”

He reached past her to turn her chair toward her and helped her sit down. He knelt in front of her and lightly grabbed the edges of the chair on either side of her body. To her surprise, _he_ appeared to be blushing, just a little. “So, confession time.” He frowned. “Correction, partial confession time. I need to tell you a few things but, at the risk of freaking you out, I figure we should start small.”

Bilba twisted her hands in her lap and managed a genuine, albeit small, smile. “You’re not a serial killer are you?”

“Only on Tuesdays,” Fili replied with a matching grin. He settled back, until he was seated on the ground in front of her chair, and retrieved his phone. He found whatever he was looking for and, with a nervous look, handed it to her.

Bilba took it, looked at the screen, and blinked in surprise.

There was a picture of her on the screen. Well, to be more accurate, it was a photo op of hers. There she was, dressed in her performance gown and her mother’s jewelry, standing in the middle of a group of three.

But not just any three.

“Oh,” she breathed. “I thought you looked familiar.”

Familiar, because it was _him_. The blond she’d remembered staring at all those weeks ago in Mirkwood, him and the dark-haired man and the woman with the scarlet hair. The ones she’d tried to pretend she was a part of, if only for a moment. She put her fingers on the screen and pulled her fingers apart, zooming in on the shot of her face.

She looked like she was about to cry.

“I couldn’t get your eyes out of my head,” Fili said softly, getting up on one knee again, “or how hard you hung onto me. Kili said you held onto him just as hard.”

Kili, Bilba thought idly, that must be the brunette. The name was familiar but she couldn’t put her finger on why. Perhaps it was simply common, like Iris was in the Shire.

“I came back,” Fili continued. “I thought I could...I don’t know, do something. When I saw you and you were sick, it seemed the best thing I could do was--”

“Get me soup.” Bilba’s eyes narrowed in sudden understanding. The clothing he was wearing, his uncle’s car, this restaurant. “You’re not a stagehand.”

“Technically, I never said I was,” Fili said, with a cheeky grin. “I just...didn’t correct you when _you_ said I was.” When she didn’t answer, he sighed and added, “I met your sister at that first concert and she made...less than a stellar impression. Then when you mentioned how much your stepmother valued wealth--”

“You had to make sure I wasn’t the same way,” Bilba said.

“Later it never really seemed the time to bring it up,” Fili continued. “It’s not exactly something you can just casually work into conversation.”

“Oh, by the way, I’m rich but didn’t mention it in case you were a raging psycho?” Bilba quipped with a slight grin. “I think I can see the problem.”

“And here I thought I was supposed to be the raging psycho.” Fili pushed to his feet and grabbed his own chair. He dropped into it and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Anyway, I left the phone -- I thought I could offer...something. I don’t know.” He let out a small laugh. “And then we started talking, and suddenly I wanted a lot more than to simply offer help.”

Don’t read into that, Bilba cautioned herself. He means you becoming friends, that’s it.

Even so...

“I don’t get it,” she ran a hand over the phone screen, which had long since gone dark from lack of use. “Why me?” Her eyes flickered up to meet his. “Or are you like the Pied Piper, collecting misfits as you go?”

Was she special. That was what she wanted to know. Did _she_ matter, or was he just a compassionate soul and she was the latest in a long line of people he’d reached out to help.

“I’ve helped others in the past.” He shifted, settling back in his chair. “But I’ve never gone this far, never ended up with someone I already consider a dear friend.”

Bilba’s heart, which had started to fall at his first words, settled back into her chest again and a warm feeling passed over her. “So what’s different about me then?”

To her surprise, he looked away from her. He clapped his hands on his knees, made an aborted move to stand up, then rethought it and stood up anyway. He rubbed his hands on his slacks as if they were sweaty, and turned his gaze out the window.

When he refocused on her a moment later, his eyes were bright in a way they hadn’t been before. “Remember how I said I had a few things to tell you?”

Bilba nodded. “You’re afraid it’ll freak me out?”

“Perhaps freak out wasn’t the best term.” Fili pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and opened it. Bilba caught a glimpse of a huge wad of cash before he pulled out what looked like a high denomination bill and tossed it on the table like it was simply a piece of paper. “Overwhelm perhaps.”

“Oh.” Bilba handed him his phone back.

He slid it into his back pocket and then held his hand out to her. “How about I tell you more later, after we’ve seen Dale and the festival?”

“All right.” Bilba took his hand slowly, ignoring the way the action sent an electric surge through her, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “As long as you can answer one question right now.”

He paused and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Bilba grinned. “It’s not Tuesday, is it?”

***

The rest of the day counted as the best one of Bilba’s life.

She and Fili wandered practically every street of Dale, visiting shops, booths, watching dancers and street performers, and sampling more varieties of food than she knew existed.

There were games, most of which Fili said were rigged against the player, but they played them anyway and even won a few. Bilba refused to accept any prizes, or allow him to buy her anything as she knew there was no way she’d be able to explain the purchases to her stepmother.

Still, none of that stopped Fili from dragging her into at least three photo booths to take small, grainy pictures where they did everything except look polished and professional.

More often not, as they ran from one place to the next, Bilba found herself holding Fili’s hand. Sometimes he reached for hers but, on a few occasions, she was the one to take his. Each time she scolded her heart to behave but, as the day went on, those scoldings became less and less sincere.

As they went from place to place, Fili added in the promised tour, showing her different buildings and explaining their history. He also added stories about strange events he’d heard about, usually involving nobility, that had her nearly doubled over with laughter.

A few times, as they turned a corner, or headed down a new street, Bilba thought she spotted Dwalin’s tattoed head, or Nori’s distinct hairstyle through the crowds, but they were always gone when she turned to get a closer look. Fili never seemed to see them so she decided not to point it out and instead took solace in the fact that they were apparently concerned enough about her to keep an eye on her.

It was an odd, but pleasant, thought to think there was anyone out there concerned about her.

When evening started to fall, they headed for the plain and the rides that had so drawn her attention when they’d first arrived. Fili had recommended they stop eating a few hours beforehand and Bilba soon found out why as they sat in small cars that shot off at ridiculous speeds before spinning into curves, flips, and dives. Half the time she found herself clinging to Fili’s arm. On at least one ride, and possibly two, she threw her arms around him and used him as a physical anchor as the ride screamed through several tight turns and even went fully upside down.

It was dark, the area lit only by the flashing lights of the rides, when she and Fili finally took a break. He bought them both cotton candy and they sat on a small, false retaining wall on the edge of the area housing the rides.

For awhile, they simply sat and watched the flashing lights and listened to the screams of excited people as they went on the rides.

Bilba finished her cotton candy and cleared her throat. “So,” she said finally. “You mentioned you’d tell me later, about why you’re going to so much trouble for me.”

Fili sighed. He popped the last piece of his own cotton candy in his mouth and idly stared out at the rides. When he looked back at her, Bilba was surprised at how openly nervous he looked. “All right.” He ran a hand through his hair and scowled. “I literally have no idea where to start with this.”

Bilba shrugged. “Just start anywhere.”

“Yeah.” He ran his hands down his thighs. “How much do you know about Ereboreans and our culture?”

“Not a lot,” Bilba admitted.

“Right.” Fili stood up suddenly, fast enough that Bilba started and her eyes widened. He looked apologetic before clasping his hands together and saying, “so, there’s this thing about us. Don’t ask me to explain it. I’ve heard some try to argue it’s biological, some that it’s spiritual and some that it doesn’t exist at all.”

“What doesn’t?” Bilba asked in confusion. “Are you talking about your Blessing?” She understood enough to know that each of the races in Arda had a blessing gifted to them from Eru. The Shirelinegs could literally grow anything, anywhere, no matter the conditions. Those from Rivendell, Mirkwood and Lothlorien were gifted in song and music (one of the major reasons she had so much trouble getting audiences, one look at her and people wondered why she was playing piano and not growing tomatoes) while those of Rohan and Gondor were charismatic and talented orators.

She wasn’t honestly sure that _anyone_ knew what the gift of the Ereboreans was, outside of the people themselves. They were a very private people, possessing their own language and culture that they rarely shared outside of the mountain.

“We have something called a One,” Fili blurted out. “It’s --” he frowned and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s really hard to explain. Not everyone finds their One, but when you do, you just know. Or, eventually, you do. It’s hard when you’ve never felt it before to recognize it right away but--” He trailed off and gave her a hopeful look. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

“Not really,” Bilba confessed. “Are you talking about soulmates?”

“No.” Fili spread his hands wide and crouched a little as if he could simply will her to understand. “I’m talking about someone you were born to connect with. Someone Eru himself created to be in your life. Someone who will understand you in a way no one else does.”

Bilba’s eyebrows drew together. “How is that not a soulmate?”

“Because you _believe_ someone is your soulmate,” Fili said intensely. “I _know_ you’re my One!”

The second the words left his mouth he went white. Dead white. His eyes widened, and his mouth gaped. Bilba heard him swear viciously, under his breath, and then he ran his hands over his head.

“I can’t believe I said that,” he said, almost to himself. He turned away from her, hands still clutching his head. “I wanted to explain -- Aule, I’m an _idiot_. You must think I’m insane.”

Bilba hesitated. She had no idea what he was talking about, but there was one thing she _did_ know with absolute certainty.

The last three weeks of her life had been the best she could remember, and it was all because of this man. No one had ever treated her with the kindness, or care, or compassion he had. No one had ever tried so incredibly hard to make sure that _she_ was happy, that _she_ was looked out for and cared for.

No one had ever sat and simply _listened_ to her the way he had.

She didn’t feel like she had to behave a certain way around him, that she had to be on her best behavior, that she had to stop acting a certain way or begin acting another. Sometimes she worried he might think her a complainer, or that he’d fail to believe her her the way her grandfather had but, if she were honest, she’d _already_ complained and he hadn’t left, _already_ told him quite a bit about her situation, and he hadn’t left.

He. Hadn’t. Left.

Carefully, she slid off the low wall and went to him. She put a hand lightly on his forearm, and jumped in surprise when he spun around to face her.

“So,” she said, lightly reaching out to hook a couple of her fingers around a few of his. “What does that mean, exactly? To be your One?”

He took her hand more fully in his, and ran his thumb along the back of it. “It can mean a lot of things,” he said softly. “Sometimes it means a best friend, a bond that goes as deep as blood, if not deeper.”

“And other times?” As she asked, Bilba caught his other hand and intertwined their fingers. She had no idea where this sudden boldness was coming from, or maybe she did. After all, if she was his One, didn’t that make him hers as well? And wouldn’t that explain everything she’d been experiencing the last three weeks? Feeling a connection with him, constantly surprising herself with the realization that she _hadn’t_ known him for years?

He pulled his hands free, only to settle them gently on her hips. He pulled her closer and rested his forehead against hers. “It can mean other things,” he said softly, “but only if both sides make that choice. That’s where the blessing comes in, and why they’re called our One. Your One will never betray you as it would be like betraying themselves. They’ll be there for you, always and forever. On the good days and the bad, Through sickness or injury, poverty or wealth, til Eru welcomes you home.”

Bilba pulled her head back enough to look at him, still so close they were sharing the same breath. “That almost sounds like the marriage vow they use in Gondor.”

Fili’s lips quirked into a lazy smile. “Does it? Perhaps they stole it from us.”

Bilba rested her hands on his forearms where he was still holding her hips. “So my choice, huh?” she asked with a small smile. She was shaking with nerves and her stomach was twisting in on itself, but even so. She pushed up on her toes, bringing her mouth within centimeters of his. “What about your choice?” she whispered, eyes focusing on his lips.

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through her from how close they were. Then he lowered his head the last two centimeters and pressed his lips to hers.

Pure electricity seemed to surge right through her. Bilba let out a small gasp and wrapped her arms around his neck. He dragged her closer, up on the very tips of her toes and wrapped his arms around her.

He broke off and buried his face against her neck, hugging her. Bilba wrapped one arm around his back and lightly trailed her other hand along the side of his face, playing her fingers along the braids and beads in his hair and mustache.

Fili let out a breath against her neck, and pulled back. He kissed her on the forehead and then released her to reach inside his jacket. “On that note,” he said with a smile. “I have something for you.”

Bilba’s eyes widened and she felt a tiny surge of panic. She definitely loved him, was certain she was on her way to being _in_ love with him, and she believed him about the One thing but that didn’t mean she was ready to --

He pulled an envelope out and she relaxed with a sigh of relief. He caught it and chuckled. “Worried I was about to propose?”

“Little bit,” Bilba confessed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said sincerely. “Ones or not, it _has_ been just three weeks. There’s no need to rush anything. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Do we?” Bilba asked. Everything about this day, and even the three weeks prior, had been outright magical but reality was slowly starting to sink in.

She was still trapped.

She was still at the mercy of her stepmother, totally dependent upon her for a roof over her head, food and clothing. Granted, the roof and money should have been _hers_ , _was_ hers, but there was nothing she could do about it. Step out of line, and Lobelia would simply throw her out.

“Here,” Fili handed her the envelope.

Bilba opened it and pulled out, of all things, an invitation to the ball taking place the following day. “An invitation to the ball?” she asked in confusion. It wasn’t that she _didn’t_ want to go, it was just she’d never expressed any particular interest one way or the other.

“Not quite.” Fili took it back and opened it to hand her a second sheet of paper. “You’re not just being invited to the ball. You’re being invited to _play_ at the ball.” He bounced a bit as he spoke, eyes shining with excitement. “You play at Erebor’s ball and _everyone_ is going to know your name, Ghivashel.”

Bilba frowned at the strange word he’d used, but was too busy trying to understand what he was saying to focus much on it. “I don’t understand. Why would that matter?”

“Because once the nobility of Middle Earth knows you’re supported by the royal family of Erebor, _everyone_ is going to want you. You’re going to get invited to play everywhere, by very powerful people.” He took her hands in his. “People who pay very well, and your stepmother won’t be able to touch a single coin of it.”

“I--” Bilba stared at the invitation. How in the world had he even gotten it, much less gotten her the opportunity to _play_? “It won’t matter though. My stepmother will just take it. She takes everything.”

Fili shook his head. “Not this time. You’re an adult, Sweetheart. I want you to live with me -- “ he cut himself off and shook his head. “With my family,” he corrected. “My parents are both there, and my brother and fiancee. You’ll have your own room. You’ll have a place to stay, and your own money coming in. No one but you will touch it.”

Bilba blinked up at him, and then looked at the envelope again. “I don’t -- you don’t --” She frowned at him.

“You’ve had your life dictated to you long enough,” Fili said. “I don’t want you to ever feel like I was your only choice, or like I’m simply taking the place of your stepmother.” He folded his hands over hers partially crumpling the invitation in her hands. “Believe me when I say I want you to stay forever, but I want it because you chose it, not because it was all you had. You can play and live with us, or you can do something else. I just want you to know it’s up to you. Your own money. Your own choices. Your own life.”

Bilba stared at him, and then at the invitation again. Then she took a step forward, hooked an arm around his neck and kissed him. “Thank you.” She pulled away and realized she was shaking. She let out a breath and smiled shakily at him. “Sorry, it’s just--”

“A lot,” Fili said. “I know. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She smiled at him. “At least you don’t have to worry about it anymore, right? Everything you needed to tell me.”

“Yeah,” he sighed and absently rubbed the back of his head. “About that. There is _one_ more thing I’m going to have to tell you.” He gave her a bashful look that made him look incredibly young. “I was thinking I’d tell you tomorrow though, at the ball?”

“Is tomorrow a Tuesday?” Bilba asked.

“It is not,” Fili assured her with humor. “So no worries there.”

Bilba nodded. “All right then.” She reached out and took his hand in hers. “Until tomorrow then.”

His lips pulled back in a brilliant smile that made her want to kiss him again. “Until tomorrow.”

***

Fili took her back to the venue and then drove her to the hotel she was staying in. Once there she couldn’t help but lean over to kiss him before getting out and heading inside. The hotel was one of the nicer ones she’d stayed in, with an entrance she needed a keycard to enter and an armed guard standing watch.

As she stepped off the elevator onto the floor she was staying on, Bilba was almost in a trance. The entire day had been a dream and she couldn’t help but twirl a few times as she made her way down the hall, almost euphoric with happiness.

She was in such a state, in fact, that she completely forgot the entire reason she’d been at the venue that morning was because she’d had a performance scheduled for that evening. A performance they’d sold exactly zero tickets for thanks to the festival going on, but a performance, nonetheless.

It had entirely slipped her mind during the day while she was out with Fili, and it continued to slip her mind, right up until the moment she opened the room to her door and found Lobelia waiting for her.


	6. Allegro

Bilba sat and listened to her stepmother berate her for missing a performance no one had even attended. Her hands were clenched into white knuckled fists in her lap and she had her teeth gritted so hard her jaw ached.

“We don’t pay for you to go running about like a little tramp at all hours of the day and night, doing who knows what—“ her stepmother ranted, nose in the air as she looked down on where Bilba sat on the end of her bed.

Bilba’s hands twitched and something inside her snapped. She’d spent all day being treated like a _person_ , a normal person who had value and worth.

She no longer fit in the box her stepmother had kept her in for so long.

She didn’t _want_ to fit.

The very idea, the mere _thought_ of things going back to the way they had been was abhorrent.

Even if it was only for one night.

Bilba blinked in surprise at her own line of thought, and then felt her spirit settle. The fear of leaving, of upending her entire life to step into the unknown had kept her bound to her stepmother for so long.

She wasn’t afraid anymore.

Not now. Not that she knew exactly what her future held, _who_ her future held.

She should have just gone with him.

Immediately. No matter how radical, or overwhelming, or anything else. She should have just...gone.

She should just go now.

Peace flowed through her and she lifted her chin to face down her stepmother. Let her have Bag End. Let her take all of Bilba’s belongings, her money, her mother’s jewelry. Let her destroy Bilba’s reputation in the Shire.

Bilba didn’t care anymore.

She was _done_.

“You don’t pay for me at all,” she said sharply, rising to her feet so suddenly Lobelia actually took a step back. “You’ve been spending _my_ inheritance, _my_ paychecks, every step of the way.”

“You ungrateful brat,” Lobelia sputtered. “After all we’ve done—“

“What exactly have you done?” Bilba demanded. “Stolen from me? Demeaned me and cut me down at every turn? Poisoned the Shire against me?”

“We took you in when no one else wanted you,” Lobelia said haughtily, crossing her arms.

“You took me in because you wanted my money,” Bilba shot back. Anger rushed through her as years upon years of abuse suddenly became too much to bear. “And you certainly lived well off it these past years, haven’t you?”

“It was needed,” Lobelia said, unrepentant. “You think your piano lessons were cheap? Or--”

“Or Priscilla’s dresses and jewels?” Bilba mocked. “What about her and Otho’s private school? The one I wasn’t allowed to attend? Or what about every year when you four would go off on month long vacations while I’d be left behind? I imagine that _would_ be costly, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, I never.” Lobelia was nearly purple with rage and there was a large vein throbbing on her temple.

BIlba was trembling from adrenaline, but couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction at finally getting it out. “It’s gone, isn’t it?” she said now, giving voice to what she’d already suspected. “That’s why you came up with this idiotic tour. It’s why you were never going to sign over the trust. There _is_ no trust, is there? Not anymore. You spent _every_ last dime and now you expect _me_ to make up for it.”

It all made sense, she’d just been unwilling to face it. The tour, the sudden obsession with marrying Priscilla off to nobility. The increased anger over having to spend any money on _her_.

They’d spent all the money, and then proceeded to hatch an idiot scheme to use her, and Priscilla’s hand in marriage, to get more.

Without warning, the door opened, and Lotho and Otho strode in. Behind them, sauntered Priscilla, wearing what was clearly a new dress probably paid for by Bilba’s last performance. She looked around the room in disgust, and then raised an eyebrow at Bilba. “My, my,” she said with mock shock, “someone went and found herself a backbone didn’t she?”

“Get out,” Bilba ordered, but now there was a waver in her voice as Lotho shut the door and he and Other stood in front of it, blocking it.

Priscilla sent her an amused look, before her hand suddenly darted out and snatched Bilba’s purse where she’d set it on the nightstand.

“Put that down!” Bilba took a step, only to have Lotho grab her by the arm and yank her back. “Ow, let go of me!” She tried to break free, but he wrenched her arm up behind her back until she shrieked with pain. Lobelia sent a dirty look at Lotho, who responded by clamping a hand over Bilba’s mouth and forcing her jaw closed.

“Let’s see if we can find out what’s sparked this sudden surge of independence,” Priscilla said cheerfully. “Shall we?”

Bilba tried to yell through Lotho’s hand but only the only sound that went through was muffled.

Priscilla dumped the purse out on the bed and Bilba’s heard began to pound as both her cell phone and the invitation fell out.

“Oooo, what do we have here?” Priscilla picked the phone up and pulled the screen up. “Fili?” She raised an eyebrow. “That who you’ve been whoring yourself out to? Here’s hoping he was at least attractive.”

Bilba struggled against Lotho, who released her mouth enough for her to respond. “He’s just a friend I met at one of the other venues. He’s a stagehand.”

“A stagehand?” Priscilla said incredulously. “Really? Gross.” A smirk suddenly spread across her face, and she began writing something out on the phone.

A rush of cold ran through Bilba and she automatically tried to move forward, only to be jerked back by Lotho again. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Helping you,” Priscilla said in a sugary sweet voice. “I know you didn’t _really_ intend to associate with a...stagehand, so I’m just letting him know how you really feel.” She held the phone away from her a few inches and read, “Thanks for the good time, sucker. Now be a good boy and never contact me again. I deserve better.” She shut the phone off and tossed it on the bed. “There,” she said with a false smile. “You can thank me later.”

Bilba could only stare at her. She felt cold, and strangely detached. “Why,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “Why would you do that?”

Priscilla didn’t answer. She’d spotted the envelope on the bed and had frozen in place. After a few minutes, she carefully picked it up, her eyes wide. “Bilba Baggins,” she said slowly, “it looks like you aren’t entirely useless after all.”

“What is that?” Lobelia asked.

Priscilla held it up. “It looks like our precious Bilba managed to get an invitation to the ball.” She make a tsk sound. “And after you made such a show of not wanting to go.”

“I’m supposed to preform,” Bilba said, desperately. If she could just get there. Fili would be there, she knew he would be and then, if she could just get to him, she could explain, tell him that it hadn’t been her. That she would _never_ have sent him such a horrid text. “It’ll probably be a lot of money,” she offered plaintively. “Enough to make the entire tour worth it.”

A lot of money, and they could have every last coin. She didn’t care. All she wanted was Fili.

Priscilla snorted. “Please, as if your pathetic earnings matter now.” She held out the invite to her mother. “I don’t know who you had to sleep with to get this, but I’m glad you did.” She smiled coldly. “Thanks to you, I”m going to land myself a prince.”

“He’s engaged.” Bilba tried to get away from Lotho again, but his grip was iron solid, and he had her arm up so far that the slightest movement threatened to break it. Even if she could get past him, Otho was lounging against the door, looking down at his phone screen and ignoring the lot of them.

“He has an older brother,” Priscilla said, “and there’s always Mirkwood’s prince.” She raised her arms and indicated her figure. “And, even if they aren’t interested, I’m sure _some_ noble or another will be. I mean, have you _seen_ me?”

“Hmph.” Lobelia stuffed the envelope into her own purse and snapped her fingers at Priscilla. “Come along, dear. You’ll need your sleep. Once the shops open we’ll make sure you have a dress worthy of a future princess.”

“Let me go,” Bilba demanded, as the two women started toward the door. The cell phone was still on the bed. If they’d just _leave_ and let her get to it, or even another phone where she could call Fili and explain...

Lobelia’s eyes went to the phone and her lips pursed. “I don’t suppose we can have you calling your little _stagehand_ , can we?” She frowned suddenly. “Where did a stagehand find an invitation anyway?”

“Probably knows a wealthy patron willing to part with one in exchange for a _favor_ ,” Priscilla said with a sneer. “We should have thought of that. We could have made Bilba useful weeks ago.”

Lobelia went and jerked open the door to the small closet. She nodded at Lotho who proceeded to release Bilba’s arm, but only long enough to pin her arms to her side, wrap his arms around her waist and lift her right off the floor.

“Don’t put me in there!” Bilba shouted as Lotho went toward the closet. “Please! Don’t put me in there!”

She kicked and managed to catch Lotho’s shin with one foot. He cursed and his grip loosened, enough for her to get her feet back on the ground. She lunged to the side, but he already had a hand back on her arm. He swung her around, and Lobelia slapped her across the face.

The blow was hard enough to snap her head back, and send pain blistering through her. She staggered, and her legs wobbled beneath her.

Lotho took the opportunity to shove her toward the closet. Bilba stumbled in and lost her balance. Her knees hit the carpet with a bark of pain and the carpet fibers scraped against her palms.

Before she could find her purchase, the door slammed shut behind her. Bilba scrambled to her feet and slammed against the door, scrabbling for the doorknob, but the door didn’t budge.

A few seconds later she heard the sound of a chair being shoved under the knob, locking the door shut.

“No!” She pounded on the door, hard enough to send bursts of pain through the already abraded flesh of her palm. “Let me out! Please! Let me out!”

She heard the door to the hotel room shut, and then silence fell over the room. The closet door had slats in it, letting in small slits of light and she dropped to her knees, desperately trying to see into the room.

As far as she could tell, it was empty.

“No!” She slapped the door in frustration and turned to sag to the ground, back against the wood. She drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around her legs, and buried her head in her arms. 

“Fili,” she whispered before her voice choked on a sob. “I didn’t do it. Please. Please come get me. Please.”

Her only answer was silence.

***

She cried herself out finally and fell into an unsettled sleep.

She didn’t know what woke her up.

One second she was in a mist covered field searching desperately for Fili, and the next she jerked away with a harsh gasp.

She blinked, struggling to focus through her still half-asleep brain.

The sound of footsteps thundered down the hall. Then door to her room burst open.

“Bilba?”

“Fili,” Bilba whispered. She struggled to her knees and turned to face the door. “Fili!” She pounded on the door. “Fili!”

The chair was yanked away and thrown, hard enough that she heard it shatter against the wall on the other side of the room. Then the door was pulled open, and she was looking up at Fili, Dwalin and Nori standing over top of her.

“Fili.” Bilba’s voice cracked and she held her arms out to him. He immediately dropped to both knees, grabbed her and pulled her forward into a hug. Bilba wrapped both arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck.

“It wasn’t me,” she sobbed against his shoulder. “I swear. I didn’t send that text. I didn’t do it.”

“I know you didn’t, Amralime,” Fili said, brushing a hand over her hair. “I knew it the second I woke up and saw it.” He tightened his grip. “I’m so sorry. I should never have let you come back here.”

“Figures,” Dwalin grumbled from behind them. “The one night we _aren’t_ here.”

“I vote we go back to where we left the idiot stepfather and stepbrother,” Nori said, sounding downright terrifying, “and punch them again.”

Bilba pulled back, far enough to look at them. “You punched Lotho and Otho?”

Fili’s hands settled gently on her face and turned her head to examine her cheek and eye, both of which were sore and felt puffy. “That we did,” he said, his voice flat. “And I quite concur, Nori. I don’t think we punched them nearly hard enough.”

He started to get up, but stopped when Bilba grabbed his arms. “You know I would never hurt you like that, right?” she asked desperately. “I’d never use you. Not ever.”

“I know.” He ran his thumbs over her face lightly and leaned forward to kiss her. “I believe you.”

“Do you?” Bilba asked softly.

“Of course,” Fili said with a smile. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Bilba wrapped her arms back around his neck and sagged against him. He held her for several long minutes before carefully disentangling himself and helping her to her feet. “Come on, what do you say we go get you ready for the ball?”

“I can’t go.” Bilba grabbed his hand and wrapped her other arm around his bicep, pulling herself in close to him. He was wearing sweats and a ragged looking t-shirt, and his hair was mussed. He must have awakened, seen the text and run straight from his bed without stopping to get dressed. “Priscilla and Lobelia took my invitation.”

A muscle in Fili’s jaw tightened. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “This is my fault.”

BIlba shook her head. “It’s not your fault,” she insisted. “I didn’t know it was going to happen, and I’ve lived with them my whole life.”

Fili scowled. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. You can go to the ball.” An odd light entered his eyes and he smiled wickedly. “As a matter of fact, I’m glad they’ll be going.”

“Me too,” Nori said, clapping his hands. “Dwalin, are you glad?”

Dwalin grunted, but his eyes were focused on the dark bruising on Bilba’s upper arm.

They headed out. Bilba wrapped one arm around Fili’s waist and put her other hand on his chest, practically gluing herself to his side. It made movement a bit awkward, but he didn’t seem to mind and Bilba couldn’t bring herself to move away.

“I want to accept your offer,” she said quietly. “I should have accepted it last night. I was scared...and maybe...I don’t know.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “It’s just so unfair. They have my parent’s home, my inheritance. I couldn’t even get my mother’s jewelry unless Lobelia loaned it to me.”

“Is that so?” Nori appeared in front of them. “Would any of those pieces happen to be here?”

Bilba nodded. “A few of them. The rest are back in Bag End in the Shire.”

“Excellent. When you have a moment make me a list, would you? Everything you want from here or your home.” He directed an expectant look toward Fili who gave a short nod. Nori saluted and then spun on one heel and vanished around a corner.

Bilba frowned up at Fili, who grinned innocently. “I may have sent them to keep an eye on you. Unfortunately, they both have other jobs, which is why they weren’t here last night.” He sighed. “I am sorry, Sweetheart. I should have been here.”

“It’s okay.” Bilba moved to wrap both arms around his waist, uncaring of how hard it became to walk normally. “You’re here now.”

***

Later that evening, Bilba stood in front of a mirror and tried to reconcile the woman staring back at her with...being her.

Fili had taken her out of the hotel that morning and straight into a waiting limousine.

From there, he’d taken her to Erebor’s palace. As they’d been waved through the main gates, Bilba had turned to him in confusion. “Is your father a councilor?” She knew that, in several of the kingdoms, very high ranking members of the nobility, or the king’s council, lived within the palace. Fili was far too young for any of that, which meant it was probably a family member.

Or uncle, she thought as she recalled his comment about the car he’d driven the day before.

“Something like that,” was all Fili had said.

They’d driven into a massive underground garage and Fili had led her through many a hall and giant staircase, until they’d arrived at a massive room on one of the upper floors.

“I thought you might want an opportunity to relax for a bit,” He’d said. He’d shown her the enormous bathroom, complete with an in ground, heated pool, and the phone she could use to call for food.

He’d then left, and Bilba had promptly collapsed on the bed. She’d ended up sleeping for hours before waking up and hesitantly using the phone to call and ask for food.

Once she’d eaten she’d gone to soak in the pool, and walked back into the room to find it filled with women who’d announced they’d been sent to ready her for the ball.

They hadn’t left for hours and, when they had...well...they’d left an entirely different woman behind.

They’d taken her hair and curled it into soft waves that draped over her shoulders and down her back. A jeweled net had been worked through, held in place by a silver comb set with what looked like sapphires and diamonds.

After that, she’d been helped into the most beautiful ballgown she’d ever seen. It was off the shoulder, with an embroidered bodice and matching embroidery along the hem. It was simple, but classy, and exactly the sort of dress she loved.

The second she’d seen it she had remembered Fili casually bringing up her concert gown the day before and, upon hearing how much she’d hated it, asking what her dream gown would be. The one she’d described was incredibly close to the one she was wearing now.

The dress had matching slippers, _comfortable_ slippers, gloves that went to her elbows, and then a delicate diamond and sapphire necklace with matching earrings.

There was a knock on her door and she turned to face it. “Come in.”

The door opened and Fili walked in, dressed in a dark suit and tie and with his hair and beads neatly done.

“My lady,” he said with a low bow. “You look stunning.”

Bilba smiled, her stomach twisting with nerves. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said, shyly.

Fili offered her his arm. “Are you ready?”

Bilba hesitated. They’d used makeup to cover the bruises on her arm and face, but she could still feel them. “Do you think Lobelia and Priscilla will bother me?”

She didn’t know what had happened to Lotho and Otho, and didn’t particularly care. The idea of having to face her stepmother and stepsister at the ball, where literally anything could happen, was unnerving though.

Fili put his hands on her shoulders, lightly. “They won’t get anywhere near you. Trust me.”

Bilba managed a smile and reached to hook her hands over his wrists. “All right.”

She took a deep breath and slid her arm around his bicep. “I’m ready.”

He grinned and then, together, they headed out.

***

The evening passed in a blur.

Bilba stayed in a small room off the main ballroom, waiting for the time when she would preform. It wouldn’t be a full concert, just a few songs before the main orchestra hired for the event would take over.

Fili stayed with her for most of it, sitting close enough that their knees were touching. He was called away, eventually, and Bilba was left to pace the small room, trying to focus on her breathing and calm the butterflies in her stomach.

When Dwalin came to get her, it was a relief to stop waiting and finally get it over with. She was excited, but she was ready to have it all behind her, hopefully without any mistakes.

It was overwhelming to be led into a massive room, filled to bursting with women dressed in glittering gowns and men in fine suits. The orchestra was set up in one corner and, as she was led to it, she heard her name being announced to the room. She tensed, knowing Lobelia and Priscilla had to be in the room and had to have heard.

By the time they’d reached the orchestra, and the piano set up on a low platform, the room had fallen silent but for the rustle of organza and chiffon. Dimly, Bilba was aware of a large throne set up at the far side of the room with a figure seated upon it and two others on either side, but she deliberately ignored it.

She knew the king of Erebor was watching, along with the prince whose birthday was the reason for the festival and ball, but knowing it abstractly was far different from looking over and realizing that she was about to _play for the royal family of Erebor._

Once she arrived at the piano she turned to face the room, eyes fixed on the floor, and dropped into a deep curtsy. She half expected Lobelia or Priscilla to cause a scene then, but there was only silence as she turned to sit at the piano.

She took a deep breath, centered herself, and began to play.

Once her fingers touched the keys, it was easier. She truly did love music, no matter how her stepfamily had sought to misuse that love, and it was easy to lose herself in it. One note flowed into the next and she closed her eyes and gave herself over to it.

It felt like it was over before it started, though she knew logically that she’d played three pieces.

As the last note died away, applause broke out and she turned to face the crowd with a smile. She stood and curtsied again, before standing awkwardly, unsure of what she was supposed to do now.

Dwalin approached again and she gratefully took his arm as he led her down off the stage. Instead of taking her back toward the small antechamber, however, he pulled her instead toward the throne on the other side of the room.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. Behind them, the orchestra started up and people began to move toward the large dance floor, while others chatted along the edges, holding small glasses of champagne or plates of food.

“The king would like to meet you,” Dwalin said.

Bilba tensed. “The what wants to what now?”

He snorted, but said nothing, just kept leading her along.

Bilba’s stomach tied itself into about eight different kinds of knots and her breath grew short. She was not prepared to meet royalty. Not prepared at all.

Prepared or not, however, it didn’t matter as they’d already reached the bottom of the platform upon which sat the throne.

Bilba kept her eyes fixed on the red runner leading up the steps to the throne. Dwalin led her up them and panic set in as she suddenly realized she had no idea what to do. Was she supposed to bow? Kneel? Curtsy? Did she speak to him or wait for him to speak to her?

_Why had no one bothered to give her a manual on how to speak to a freaking king?_

Dwalin released her arm and, not knowing what else to do, Bilba dropped into the lowest curtsy she could manage. As she reached the lowest point, she murmured, “I’m honored to meet you, Your Majesty,” and desperately prayed it was _somewhere_ close to an appropriate salutation.

“Rise,” a deep voice rumbled, seconds before she’d been planning to do so herself, and she desperately thanked all the Valar that he’d spoken before she’d made _that_ mistake.

She obediently rose, but kept her eyes down, fixed on the large boots resting on the ground before the throne. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see there were two other people standing there, one on each side of the throne. Priscilla had mentioned something about there being another prince, hadn’t she? That must be him.

“Look at me, child,” the voice commanded.

Bilba obediently raised her eyes, to find herself looking at dark haired, bearded man lounging back on the throne. He was younger than she’d have thought he would be, with only a few strands of silver running through his dark hair, and intense blue eyes that seemed to cut right through her.

Almost on their own, her eyes flickered to her left where a young man with dark hair stood in formal attire.

Bilba frowned. He looked fam --

Her eyes went wide and her heart pretty much stopped in her chest.

She _knew_ him.

He was the dark haired man from the photo, the one next to the woman with the scarlet hair. Kili. _Prince_ Kili apparently.

But...if he was a prince...did that mean...

“I believe you’ve met my nephews,” the king said mildly. His hand indicated Kili. “My youngest nephew, Kili.” His hand moved, toward his right, “and my heir--”

Bilba turned as his hand indicated, and found herself looking at an incredibly familiar set of ice blue eyes.

“Fili,” she whispered.

Fili -- _Crown Prince_ Fili, came forward and _bowed_ to her. “My lady. He stood and held a hand out. “I was wondering if I might request the honor of a dance?”

Bilba gaped at him, literally gaped. Then the fact that she was keeping the _Crown Prince_ waiting in front of his uncle and the entire ballroom entered her mind and she put her hand in his and dropped into another curtsy.

At this rate, she was going to have exceptionally sore legs.

Fili led her out onto the dance floor, put a hand on her waist and took her the hand in his. Bilba put her free hand on his shoulder and gave him a wry look. “Worried about freaking me out, huh?”

“Overwhelm,” Fili corrected. “I meant overwhelm.”

The floor had cleared out, Bilba noted, leaving the two of them alone as the music started. Fili swept her into the first steps of a waltz and she was desperately grateful for all the times she’d snuck into Priscilla’s dance lessons when the tutor had come over. The older woman had been one of the few kind people she’d met in the Shire and had been happy to teach in a way that Bilba could learn just from being present.

Well, from being present and with a lot of practice with a broom as a partner when Lobelia wasn’t around.

“The Crown Prince,” she said as they spun around the room. “You’re the Crown Prince.”

“I’m still me.” His lips pulled into a lopsided grin. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you but, with your sister and stepmother--”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Bilba said with a shudder. She could only imagine what would have happened had she mentioned something in a text and Priscilla had seen it.

Fili smiled in delight and pulled her closer. BIlba focused on his eyes and, around them, the room and the music seemed to fade away until it felt like it was just the two of them.

The music finally ended and Fili tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as he led her off the floor. The other attendees streamed past them, but the two barely noticed as they continued to gaze into one each other’s eyes.

A swirl of silk and cloying perfume, and suddenly Lobelia and Priscilla were there, blocking their path. Bilba tensed, fingers convulsing on Fili’s arm, but he simply put his free hand over hers and squeezed comfortingly.

“Your Highness.” Priscilla curtsied, leaning forward as she did to give a clear view down the top of her extremely low cut dress. It was bright pink and decorated with flowers, that matched the rubies she wore.

Rubies that had belonged to Bilba’s mother.

Lobelia had also curtsied. When the two women straightened, both wore the open, innocent expressions they had when out in public and Bilba couldn’t help the way her breathing grew short.

“We’ve been so looking forward to meeting you,” Lobelia started sweetly. “We were so honored by your inviting our dear Bilba to play in spite of her being an amateur. Perhaps--”

“Shut up.”

Bilba started in surprise and looked up at Fili. His voice had been flat, and ice cold when he’d spoken. In front of them, Lobelia and Priscilla were both literally gaping, eyes wide.

“I’ve no desire to listen to a pair of vipers,” Fili continued, his tone every bit as hard.

“Your Highness,” Lobelia said with a fake laugh. “I don’t mean to speak ill of my stepdaughter but she unfortunately--”

“Did I give you leave to speak?” Fili demanded. His voice had dropped to a low rumble that reminded Bilba of his uncle.

Lobelia’s mouth snapped shut.

“You’ll be happy to know I’ve been in touch with the Thain,” Fili continued. “He was quite surprised to hear that you’d spent every last coin of your stepdaughter’s inheritance, especially in light of your claims that _she_ was the irresponsible one. He was even more surprised to find you were taking her paychecks.” His voice, if possible, dropped another octave. “Particularly as he was under the impression that you were supposed to be teaching her to handle her finances, with the expectation that you would then hand over her inheritance.”

Bilba looked up at him in surprise. She hadn’t known that.

Dwalin and Nori appeared, standing behind Lobelia and Priscilla.

“The Thain stated he was quite eager to speak to you,” Fili said. “He was very grateful when I offered to personally see that you were all delivered to him as quickly as possible.”

Priscilla made a strangled noise, but a single glance from Fili had her snapping her mouth shut. Dwalin and Nori took them both by the arm and started to lead them away, only to stop as Bilba said a quiet word.

She released Fili’s arm and stepped silently up to Prisclla. “Those jewels are mine,” she said simply. “Please remove them and give them to me.”

Priscilla looked almost apopleptic wtih rage, but she wordleslly pulled the necklace, earrings and bracelet off and slapped them into Bilba’s hand.

Bilba’s eyes went to Lobelia, and then she turned her back and returned to Fili’s side.

She had nothing more to say to her stepmother. The woman had taken enough from her. BIlba wasn’t about to let her take so much as another minute.

She slid the jewels into a pocket on her gown and took Fil’s arm again. “I don’t suppose you’d be open to another dance,” she asked. “Would you?”

“Hmmm,” Fili smiled at her. “I think I’d be more than open. Shall we, Princess?”

Bilba smiled, and nodded. “We shall indeed.”

And, with that, they headed back out onto the dance floor.

Together.


	7. Allegro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! :D Updates to stories in progress will resume later this week!

Bilba settled the phone back in its cradle, sprang to her feet and sprinted toward her door. She grabbed the frame and used it to swing herself around into the corridor.

Erebor's palace had wide corridors with thick, elaborately designed runners on the marble floors and serious looking ancestors glowering down from portraits and statues along the walls. None of them would have probably appreciated her blatant disregard for propriety.

Oh, well.

Bilba bolted around the corner and shrieked in surprise as she came face to face with another person. She tried desperately to catch herself, only to manage to trip over her own feet. She threw her hands out, hoping to break her fall and mentally acknowledged that maybe, _just_ maybe running in the halls was a bad idea after all. 

Arms grabbed her. Instead of hitting the ground, Bilba ended up awkwardly on her knees with someone pressed against her back, also mostly on their knees.

Bilba twisted to look behind her and gave a guilty smile. "Hey, Kili."

"Bilba." Kili shook his head in bemusement as he got back to his feet and helped her up. "Are you all right?"

Bilba nodded, happily smoothing down her dress and checking her hair. She twirled in a circle. "Do I look okay?"

"Can't see anything that will make the tabloids," Kili said. "And if it does I'll just do something idiotic and overshadow it."

"That's why you're my favorite brother," Bilba said, stepping forward to impulsively hug him.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Kili said, hugging her back. "What are you in such a rush for anyway?"

"Oh!" Bilba released him and jumped back. "I just got the call! Fili's back! I gotta go!"

She rushed past him and soon reached the grand staircase. She grabbed the railing and forced herself to take the stairs at a slightly slower pace, barely pausing to smile or respond to greetings from passing nobility or staff.

Once she'd reached the bottom she _tried_ to adopt a more leisurely pace, but her feet seemed to speed up on their own until she was at a full out run again.

The guards, standing on either side of the enormous front doors grabbed the handles and pulled them open so that she didn't even have to slow as she burst through them.

It was a beautiful, bright sunny day outside. On any other day she might have gone to Dale to visit Sigrid, Lord Bard's daughter, and wander the markets.

 _This_ day, however, she'd stayed home for one very specific reason, and he was currently walking across the grass toward her.

"Fili!" Bilba sprinted toward him. Fili, in turn, dropped the duffle bag he'd been carrying and broke into a sprint of his own. They met in the middle where he proceeded to grab her, lift her off her feet and spun her in a circle.

Bilba wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as he gently set her back on her feet. She broke off and ran her hands through his hair and then down over his shoulders. 

Fili looked exhausted. He'd gotten rid of his suit jacket and tie, and the sleeves of his slightly wrinkled dress shirt were rolled to three quarter length. 

Bilba could definitely understand

He'd been gone almost a month.

A very _long_ month.

"How did negotiations go?" she asked, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Good." Fili retrieved his bag, wrapped his free arm around her waist in turn and started them toward the palace. "We should have the new trade route in place in another week or so. Uncle will be happy." He grinned down at her. "How were finals?"

"I passed all of them," Bilba said with pride. She'd been determined. She'd been separated from her husband for a _month_ thanks to those stupid tests. There was no way she was failing them.

"Congratulations." Fili squeezed the arm around her waist and leaned down to kiss her again.

Ahead, Kili had come out, with Tauriel at his side. The two had just recently celebrated their third wedding anniversary with a trip to Rohan which meant Bilba had been without all of them for a time. Granted, she'd been so busy studying she'd had little time to notice but _still_.

Fili released her long enough to greet his brother and sister-in-law before coming back to tiredly loop an arm around her waist again.

"I managed to get your schedule cleared for the rest of the day," Kili said. "You owe me."

Fili nodded. They both knew that "getting your schedule cleared" translated to Kili had taken on all of Fili's expected duties in addition to his own and would probably be up quite late getting everything done.

"You're officially my favorite brother," Fili said with sincerity.

Kili rolled his eyes. "That's what they all say."

He clapped Fili on the shoulder and then he and Tauriel headed off to whatever function was next on their schedule.

Bilba and Fili went inside and up to their chambers. As soon as they were in Fili dropped his bag with a groan and said, "I'm going to take a bath, and then sleep for a week."

"All right." Bilba nudged him toward the bath chamber. "Go on in and I'll bring you some fresh clothes."

He kissed her in gratitude and vanished into the other room.

Bilba unpacked his bag, sending his dirty clothes off to the laundry and placed the bag on the top shelf of their closet. Fili preferred to sleep shirtless, so she grabbed a pair of fresh sweatpants, boxers and socks and carried them into the other chamber.

Fili was soaking in the heated pool, leaned back against the edge with his arms propped on the ledge. His eyes were closed but he shifted when she sat on the ledge next to him and dangled her legs in the hot water.

He wrapped an arm around her leg and rested his head against it. "Can I go to sleep right here?"

"No," Bilba said, jiggling her leg against him gently. "I don't fancy trying to fish you out if you go under. I'd probably have to call Dwalin and get _him_ to get you."

"Well, that's a terrifying thought," Fili mumbled with a yawn.

Bilba giggled and pulled herself free. "Come on," she said, tugging on his arm. "Get out. The bed is awaiting."

Fili grumbled but obediently got up. Bilba got him a towel, made sure he was safely out of the pool and then went back into the other room. She pulled the covers on the bed down and opened the balcony doors to let a fresh breeze in.

The view outside drew her and she went out for a moment to rest her hands on the balcony and enjoy it. Their quarters were on the side of the mountain that faced Dale and the plain between it and Erebor. If she looked hard enough, she could just make out the venue where she’d officially met Fili for the first time.

It had been four years, and she still half expected to wake up any minute. After the ball she had indeed received invitations from all over Middle Earth. She'd traveled, on her own terms, played because she wanted to, and the money she'd received was hers and hers alone.

Two years after the ball, she and Fili had married. They'd gone to Gondor for their honeymoon and, upon their return, Bilba had started college. She preformed less often now that she had classes but still managed to get in a few a year.

It was such a night and day difference from her life before...

She sighed in contentment, before pushing off the railing and heading back inside. She toed off her shoes, clambered onto the bed and sat with her legs curled to her side.

Fili came out a few minutes later, wearing the sweats she'd left him but not bothering with the socks. He grinned and climbed onto the bed. He came toward her on all fours, hands and legs planted on either side of her and slowly advanced. She leaned away as he drew closer until she was on her back and he was braced over her.

"I thought you said you were tired," she said dryly.

He leaned down to kiss her. Bilba kissed him back and then obediently tilted her head back as he shifted to begin kissing along her jaw and throat.

"Since you seem to have found a secret energy reserve," she said mildly, "do you want to see the present I got you?"

He pulled back and his eyes narrowed. "A present?"

"A present," Bilba repeated. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed. "Off. Present."

He obediently rolled off and flopped onto his back on the mattress, draping an arm over his eyes with a sigh.

Bilba scrambled up, and half crawled across his body to reach under one of the pillows. She dragged a small, haphazardly wrapped present out and sat back next to him. "Here you go."

Fili sat up. He took the gift, gave her a questioning look, but then tore it open and pulled out a sage green t-shirt.

"Read it," Bilba said, clapping her hands and bouncing on the mattress.

Fili held the shirt against his chest and looked down to read the writing. "World's Greatest Dad." He was silent for a few seconds, and then his eyes widened, and he looked up at her sharply. "Really?"

Bilba nodded excitedly, and then shrieked as Fili dropped the shirt and tackled her back onto the mattress. He kissed her, hard, and she happily wrapped her arms around him. After a few seconds, he moved back so he was lying beside her, and pressed a hand to her still flat stomach. "When did you find out?"

"Right after you left," Bilba said, rolling to face him. "I wanted to wait and tell you in person." She scowled. "It was _really_ hard to wait."

"Hmm." He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his forehead to hers. "Have I mentioned lately that I love you?"

Bilba giggled. "Last night on the phone, but that doesn't mean I mind hearing it again." She kissed him lightly. "I love you too." She pulled away from him gently and got up on her knees. "Come on." She pulled at the covers, trapped under his body. "You need to sleep."

Fili grumbled, but it was clear that his extra burst of energy was already fading. He shifted enough for her to get the blankets free and slid beneath them. Bilba jumped off the bed to pull the covers over him. She started to grab the t-shirt, but he got it first and pulled it against his chest. "Have you told anyone else yet?"

"No," Bilba said. "I wanted to tell you first."

"You mind waiting?" Fili asked. "I want to wear it and see how long it takes people to figure it out."

Bilba rolled her eyes and laughed. "Sure." She leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead and, when she pulled away, it was to see that he was already fast asleep.

Bilba laughed and grabbed her purse. She'd promised Dis she would go shopping with her after Fili had come home. The older woman had treated her like a daughter, a _true_ daughter, from the first day they'd met and Bilba adored her in turn. Later they would all meet for dinner, including Thorin who'd proven to be far less terrifying than she'd originally thought.

She looked over her shoulder at Fili and rested a hand lightly on her abdomen.

Her life was so much different than it'd been just a few short years ago, and the future looked brighter still.

She'd never been happier.


End file.
